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UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL 


III 

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A  LIST  OF  THE   ELSIE  BOOKS  AND 
OTHER  POPULAR  BOOKS 

BY 

MARTHA    FINLEY 


ELSIE  DINSMORE. 

ELSIE'S  HOLIDAYS  AT  ROSELANDS. 
ELSIE'S  GIRLHOOD. 

ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 
ELSIE'S  MOTHERHOOD. 
ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 
ELSIE'S  WIDOWHOOD. 
GRANDMOTHER  ELSIE. 

ELSIE'S  NEW  RELATIONS. 
ELSIE  AT  NANTUCKET. 
THE  TWO  ELSIES. 

ELSIE'S  KITH  AND  KIN. 
ELSIE'S  FRIENDS  AT  WOODBURN. 
CHRISTMAS  WITH  GRANDMA  ELSIE. 
ELSIE  AND  THE  RA  YMONDS. 
ELSIE  YACHTING  WITH  THE  RAYMONDS. 
ELSIE'S  VACATION. 
ELSIE  AT  VJAMEDE. 
ELSIE  AT  ION. 
ELSIE  AT  THE  WORLD'S  FAIR. 
ELSIE'S  JOURNEY  ON  INLAND  WATERS. 
ELSIE  AT  HOME. 
ELSIE  ON  THE  HUDSON. 
ELSIE  IN  THE  SOUTH. 
ELSIE'S  YOUNG  FOLKS. 
ELSIE'S   WINTER   TRIP. 
ELSIE  AND  HER  LOVED  ONES. 


MILDRED  KEITH. 

MILDRED  AT  ROSELANDS. 
MILDRED'S  MARRIED  LIFE. 
MILDRED  AND  ELSIE. 
MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

MILDRED'S  BOYS  AND  GIRLS. 
MILDRED'S  NEW  DAUGHTER. 


CASELLA. 

SIGNING  THE  CONTRACT  AND  WHAT  IT  COST. 
THE  TRAGEDY  OF  WILD  RIVER  VALLEY. 
OUR  FRED. 

AN  OLD-FASHIONED  BOY. 
WANTED.  A  PEDIGREE. 

THE  THORN  IN  THE  NEST. 


\\ 


ELSIE'S   CHILDREN 


A  SEQUEL  TO 


ELSIE'S   MOTHERHOOD" 


BY 

MARTHA  FINLEY  (FARQUHARSON) 

Author  of  the  «  Story  of  Elsie,"  "Casella,"  "Wanted, 

a  Pedigree"  "  Old  Fashioned  Boy,"  "  Our 

Fred,"  etc.,  etc. 


"  The  bearing  and  training  of  a  child 
Is  woman's  wisdom." 

—Tennyson 


NEW    YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright, 
DODD,   MEAD  &  COMPANY, 

1877 


Copyright,  1905,  by 
DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY. 


Preface. 


With  this  volume,  bringing  the  Story  of  Elsie 
and  her  Children  down  to  the  present  time,  the 
series  closes. 

It  was  not  by  request  of  the  author's  personal 
friends,  that  either  this  or  any  one  of  the  previous 
volumes  was  written,  but  in  acquiescence  with  the 
demands  of  the  Public — the  friends  and  admirers 
of  Elsie  herself;  and  we  know  that  as  child,  as 
young  girl,  as  wife  and  mother,  she  has  had  many 
friends  who  have  been  loath  to  part  with  her. 
May  they  find  neither  her  nor  her  children  less 
lovable  in  this,  than  in  the  earlier  volumes,  and 
may  their  society  prove  sweet,  comforting  and  help- 
ful to  many  readers  and  friends  both  old  and  new. 

M.  F. 


Elsie's    Children. 


CHAPTER  FIRST. 


*  Of  all  the  joys  that  brighten  suffering  earth, 
What  joy  is  welcom'd  like  a  newborn  child." 

—Mrs.  Norton. 

A  merry  scene  in  the  nursery  at  Viamede,  where 
the  little  Travillas  are  waiting  for  their  morning 
half  hour  with  "dear  mamma."  Mammy  coming 
in  smiling  and  mysterious,  her  white  apron  thrown 
over  something  held  carefully  in  her  arms,  bids  the 
children  guess  what  it  is. 

"A  new  dolly  for  me?  "  says  Vi;  "I'm  going 
to  have  a  birthday  to-morrow." 

"A  kite,"  ventured  Harold.      "  No,  a  balloon." 

"A  tite  !  a  tite  !  "  cried  little  Herbert,  clapping 
his  hands. 

"Pshaw!   it's  nothing  but  a  bundle  of  clothes 
mammy's  been  doing  up  for  one  of  you  girls,"  said 
Eddie.      "  I  see  a  bit  of  lace  or  work,  or  something, 
hanging  down  below  her  apron." 
i 


t  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"Is  it  a  new  dress  for  Vi,  mammy?"  asked 
Elsie,  putting  her  arm  about  her  sister  aud  giving 
her  a  loving  kiss. 

"Yah,  yah;  you  ain't  no  whar  nigh  it  yet, 
chillens,"  laughed  mammy,  dropping  into  a  chair, 
and  warding  off  an  attempt  on  th**  part  of  little 
Herbert  to  seize  her  prize  and  examine  it  for  him- 
self. 

"Oh,  it's  alive,"  cried  Harold,  half  breathlessly, 
"I  saw  it  move  !  "  Then  as  a  slight  sound  fol- 
lowed the  movement,  "A  baby  !  a  baby !  "  they  all 
exclaim,  "  O,  mammy,  whose  is  it?  where  did  you 
get  it?  oh,  sit  down  and  show  it  to  us  !  " 

"Why,  chillen,  I  reckon  it  'longs  to  us,"  re- 
turned mammy,  complying  with  the  request,  while 
they  gathered  closely  about  her  with  eager  and  de- 
lighted faces. 

"  Ours,  mammy  ?  Then  I'm  glad  it  isn't  black 
or  yellow  like  the  babies  down  at  the  quarter,"  said 
Harold,  eying  it  with  curiosity  and  interest. 

"So  am  I  too,"  remarked  Violet,  "  but  it's  got 
such  a  red  face  and  hardly  any  hair  on  the  top  of 
its  head." 

"Well,  don't  you  remember  that's  the  way 
Herbie  looked  when  he  first  came?  "  said  Eddie. 

"And  he  grew  very  white  in  a  few  weeks," 
remarked  Elsie.  "  But  is  it  mamma's  baby, 
mammy?  " 

"Yes,  honey,  dat  it  am;  sho's  yer  born,  'nother 
pet    for  ole  mammy, — de  bressed   little   darlin'," 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  3 

she  answered,  pressing  the  little  creature  to  her 
breast. 

The  information  was  received  with  a  chorus  of 
exclamations  of  delight  and  admiration. 

"Tate  a  bite  of  cacker,  boy,"  said  Herbert, 
offering  a  cracker  which  he  was  eating  with  evi- 
dent enjoyment. 

Mammy  explained,  amid  the  good-natured  laugh- 
ter of  the  older  children,  that  the  newcomer  had 
no  teeth  and  couldn't  eat  anything  but  milk. 

"Oh,  poor  'ittle  fing  !  "  he  said,  softly  touch- 
ing its  velvet  cheek.  "  Won't  '00  turn  and  pay  wis 
Herbie?" 

"  No,  it  can't  play,"  said  Violet,  "  it  can't  walk 
and  it  can't  talk." 

"Where's  mamma,  mammy?"  asked  Eddie, 
glancing  at  the  clock ;  "  it's  past  her  time ;  I 
wonder  too  she  didn't  come  to  show  us  the  new 
baby  herself." 

"  She's  sick,  chile,"  returned  mammy,  a  grave 
and  anxious  look  coming  into  her  old  eyes. 

"Mamma  sick?"  exclaimed  little  Elsie,  "oh, 
may  I  go  to  her  ?  " 

Mammy  shook  her  head.  "  Not  jes  now,  honey 
darlin',  byme  by,  when  she's  bettah." 

"  Mamma  sick  ?  "  echoed  Violet.  "  Oh,  I'm  so, 
so  sorry  !  " 

"Don't  fret,  chillen,  de  good  Lord  make  her 
well  again  soon,"  said  mammy,  with  cheerful 
hopefulness,   for   she   could   not   bear  to  see  how 


4  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

sad  each  little  face  had  grown,  how  the  young  lips 
quivered,  and  the  bright  eyes  filled  with  tears  ;  for 
dearly,  dearly,  they  all  loved  their  sweet,  gantle 
mother. 

"  Herbie  wants  mamma,"  sobbed  the  baby  boy, 
clinging  to  his  eldest  sister. 

"Don't  cry,  pet,"  Elsie  said  chokingly,  hugging 
him  close  and  kissing  away  his  tears.  "  We'll  all 
ask  God  to  make  her  well,  and  I'm  sure  he  will." 

"Why!  why!  what's  the  matter  here?"  cried 
a  cheery  voice,  as  the  door  opened  and  Mr.  Tra- 
villa  stepped  into  their  midst.  "  What's  the  mat- 
ter with  papa's  darlings?  "  he  repeated,  gathering 
them  all  into  his  arms,  and  caressing  each  in  turn. 

"Is  mamma,  dear  mamma,  very  sick?"  they 
asked,   Vi   immediately   adding   in  joyous   tones, 

"  No,  no,  she  isn't,  or  papa  wouldn't  look  so 
happy." 

"I  am  very  happy,"  he  said  with  emotion, 
glancing  toward  the  bundle  in  mammy's  lap,  "  we 
are  both  very  happy  over  the  new  treasure  God 
has  given  us ;  and  I  trust  she  will  soon  be  well." 

"  Can  we  go  and  speak  to  her  ?  "  they  asked. 

"  After  a  while,"  he  said,  "  she  is  trying  to  sleep 
now.     What  do  you  all  think  of  the  little  sister  "  ? 

"Sister,"  cried  Elsie.  "Oh,  that  is  nice,  nice  ! 
I  thought  it  was  a  boy.     What's  its  name,  papa?" 

"It  has  none  yet." 

"I  sorry  for  it,"  remarked  Herbert,  gazing  with 
curious  interest  at  the  tiny  creature,  "  I  sorry  for 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  5 

it;  cause  can't  walk,  can't  talk,  can't  eat  good 
fings ;  dot  no  teef  to  eat  wis.  Do,  boy,  try  to  eat 
cacker,  cacker  dood,  Herbie  likes,"  and  breaking 
off  a  fragment  he  would  have  forced  it  into  the  wee 
mouth,  if  papa  and  mammy  had  not  interfered  for 
its  protection. 

"No,  no,  my  son,  you  would  choke  it,"  said 
Mr.  Travilla,  gently  drawing  him  away. 

"It  isn't  a  boy;  it's  a  girl,  Herbie,"  corrected 
Harold. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Vi,  who  was  gently  feeling  the  top 
of  the  tiny  head,  and  she  looked  aghast  at  her 
father,  "  O,  papa,  its  head's  rotten  !  " 

"No,  daughter,  don't  be  alarmed,"  he  said 
smiling  slightly,  "there's  nothing  wrong  there; 
all  young  babies'  heads  are  soft  like  that  on  the 
top." 

"Oh,  are  they?"  she  said  with  a  sigh  of  relief, 
"  I  was  afraid  it  would  spoil  soon  and  we  couldn't 
keep  her." 

"  No,  she  seems  to  be  all  right,"  he  said  with  a 
grave  and  tender  smile.  "  God  has  been  very  good 
to  us." 

"  Yes,  papa.  Oh  such  a  pretty  darling  as  it  is  !  " 
said  Elsie. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  chimed  in  the  others;  Vi  add- 
ing, "  and  I'm  so  glad  she's  a  girl :  'cause  now  we 
have  two  sisters,  Elsie,  just  the  same  as  the  boys." 

"Oh,  but  we  have  three  now!"  said  Eddie, 
laughing  good  naturedly  at  Vi's  crestfallen  look. 


6  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  acknowledged,  then  brightening, 
"but  we  have  three  brothers,  and  you  only  two; 
so  it's  even  all  around  after  all,  isn't  it,  papa?  " 

The  children  were  full  of  delight  over  their  treas- 
ure, and  eager  to  show  it  to  grandpa,  grandma, 
Aunt  Rosie,  Aunt  Wealthy  and  Aunt  May ;  re- 
gretting much  that  the  rest  of  their  friends  had  left 
Viamede  before  the  advent  of  the  little  stranger. 

She  proved  a  frail,  gentle  little  creature,  with 
violet  eyes  and  pale  golden  hair,  so  fair  and  deli- 
cate that  Lily  was  the  name  that  most  readily  sug- 
gested itself  and  the  one  finally  settled  upon  as 
really  hers. 

Lily  became  a  great  pet  with  them  all,  but  Violet 
claimed  a  special  property  in  her  because  as  she 
would  say,  "  The  darling  came  to  us  almost  on  my 
birthday  and  she's  just  the  sweetest,  prettiest  birth- 
day present  mamma  ever  gave  me." 

The  weather  was  growing  very  warm  at  Viamede 
and  Aunt  Wealthy  and  the  little  Duncans  found 
the  heat  oppressive ;  so  when  Lily  was  three  weeks 
old  and  the  dear  mamma  able  to  be  up  again,  look- 
ing bright  and  well,  that  party  bade  good-bye  and 
set  out  on  their  return  to  Lansdale. 

The  Dinsmores  and  Travillas  lingered  until  the 
middle  of  May,  when  they  too  set  their  faces  north- 
ward, not  parting  company  till  very  near  to  Ion 
and  the  Oaks. 


CHAPTER  SECOND. 

"  Envy  is  but  the  smoke  of  low  estate, 
Ascending  still  against  the  fortunate." 

— Brooke. 

It  was  dark  and  raining  a  little  when  the  car- 
riage turned  into  the  avenue  at  Ion ;  but  the  whole 
front  of  the  house  was  ablaze  with  lights,  the  hall 
door  stood  wide  open,  and  a  double  line  of  servants 
in  holiday  attire,  each  sooty  face  dressed  in  smiles, 
stood  waiting  to  welcome  the  wear)'  travelers 
home. 

There  were  many  hearty  shakings  and  kissings 
of  hands;  many  fervent  ejaculations:  "God  bless 
you,  Massa  and  Missus  !  "  "Tank  de  Lord  you's 
got  home  again,  honey.  We's  been  pin  in'  for  you 
darling  and  forde  sight  of  de  new  baby,"  and  with 
the  last  words  the  voices  were  lowered  at  a  sign 
from  Aunt  Chloe,  in  whose  arms  the  little  Lily  lay 
sleeping  sweetly. 

There  was  some  fretting  among  the  weary  little 
ones,  but  mamma  and  niir->es  were  kii  d  and  gentle, 
and  a  good  supper  and  bed  soon  (  ured  all  their 
troubles  fir  that  night. 

Little  Elsie  was  roused  from  her  slumbers  by  a 
gentle  shake,  and  starting  up  in  bed,  found  the  sun 
7 


8  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

shining  and  Vi  standing  by  her  side  with  eager, 
excited  face. 

"  Come,  come  to  the  window  !  "  she  cried.  "It 
does  seem  as  if  I  must  be  dreaming  ;  it  wasn't  there 
before,  I'm  sure." 

"What?"  asked  Elsie,  springing  out  upon  the 
floor  and  hurrying  after  Vi  to  the  window  from 
which  she  had  witnessed  the  burning  of  the  school- 
house. 

"  There  !  "  said  Violet,  pointing  with  her  finger, 
"  there  !  can  you  see  it  too  ?  " 

"Oh  !  "  exclaimed  Elsie,  clasping  her  hands  in 
a  sort  of  ecstasy  of  delight,  "oh,  aren't  papa  and 
mamma  good  ?  How  did  they  ever  come  to  think 
of  it  !  and  how  could  they  get  it  done  while  they 
were  away?  " 

"Grandpa,  Uncle  Horace  and  Cal,"  suggested 
Vi.  "Oh,  aren't  you  glad?  Aren't  you  glad, 
Elsie?" 

"I  should  think  so!  and  the  boat  is  ever  so 
pretty.  Let's  hurry  and  get  dressed  and  go  down 
and  see  it  closer." 

Rowing  and  sailing  upon  the  bayou  and  lakelet 
had  been  the  children's  greatest  pleasure  at  Vi- 
amede,  their  greatest  regret  in  leaving  it.  Know- 
ing this,  their  ever  indulgent  parents  had  prepared 
a  pleasant  surprise  for  them,  causing  a  small  tract 
of  barren  land  on  the  Ion  estate  to  be  turned  into 
an  artificial  lake.  It  was  this,  shining  in  the  golden 
beams   of  the  morning  sun,   and  a  beautiful   boat 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  9 

moored  to  the  hither  shore,  that  had  called  forth 
from  the  lips  of  the  little  girls  those  exclamations 
of  almost  incredulous  wonder  and  delight. 

"Yes;  I'll  ring  for  Dinah,"  cried  Vi,  skipping 
across  the  room  and  putting  out  her  hand  to  lay- 
hold  of  the  bell  pull. 

"Wait,  Vi,  our  prayers  first,  you  know,"  said 
Elsie. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  do  want  to  thank  God  for  being 
so  good  to  us;  the  pretty  lake  and  boat  and  all." 

"Dear  kind  parents,  safe  journey  home,  too, 
and  oh  more  things  than  we  can  count,"  added 
ELie,  as  they  knelt  down  side  by  side. 

This  duty  performed  with  no  irreverent  haste, 
the  maid  was  summoned  and  a  careful  toilet  made 
in  season  to  afford  them  time  for  a  walk  before 
mamma  would  be  ready  to  see  them. 

They  found  their  father  in  the  lower  veranda 
talking  with  the  overseer,  while  Solon  stood  waiting 
with  Beppo's  bridle  in  his  hand,  the  horse  pawing 
the  ground  with  impatience. 

Eddie  was  there,  too,  caressing  Bruno  who 
seemed  as  glad  to  be  at  home  again  as  any  of  the 
rest.  Uttering  a  joyous  bark  he  left  his  young 
master  and  bounded  to  meet  the  little  girls. 

Mr.  Travilla  turned  at  the  sound  and  with  a  kind 
fatherly  smile,  held  out  his  hands. 

"O  papa,"  they  cried  running  to  him,  "how 
good  of  you  to  have  it  made  for  us  !  " 

"Good-morning,  my  darlings,"   he  said,  giving 


io  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

and  receiving  caresses,  "but  what  are  you  talking 
about?  " 

"  Why  the  lake,  papa;  the  lake  and  the  boat." 

"  Lake?  "  exclaimed  Eddie,  "  why  where?  " 

"Oh,  you  couldn't  see  it  from  your  windows," 
said  Elsie.  "  Papa,  papa,  may  we  go  now  and  look 
at  it?" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  taking  a  hand  of  each. 
"  Larkin,  I'll  see  you  again  after  breakfast. 
Come,  Eddie,  my  son,  you  too,  and  Bruno." 

A  brisk  five  minutes'  walk  brought  them  to  the 
shore  of  the  lake,  a  tiny  one,  scarce  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  in  circumference,  not  very  deep  and  the  water 
so  clear  that  the  pebbly  bottom  could  be  distinctly 
seen ;  gold  and  silver  fish,  too,  gliding  hither  and 
thither ;  while  a  pretty,  gayly  painted  row-boat 
lying  at  the  water's  edge,  rocked  gently  in  the 
morning  breeze. 

Eddie  hailed  the  scene  with  a  shout  of  delight ; 
the  little  girls  danced  about  gleefully,  Vi  clapping 
her  hands  and  asking  eagerly  if  they  might  get  into 
the  boat. 

Papa  looked  at  his  watch,  "Yes,  there  will  be 
time  for  a  row  ;  one  trip  around  the  lake.  Step  in, 
all  of  you,  and  I  will  take  the  oars." 

Vi  was  quite  ready  and  Eddie  gallantly  handed 
her  in,  then  turned  and  offered  his  hand  to  Elsie. 
She  demurred.  "  But  mamma  !  shouldn't  we  have 
mamma  with  us  the  first  time?"  and  she  looked 
up  inquiringly  into  her  father's  face. 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  n 

"  Yes,  yes,  of  course  !  "  cried  the  others  mak- 
ing haste  to  step  ashore  again,  "we  want  dear 
mamma  with  us  the  very  first  time." 

Papa  smiled  approval.  "Then  we  will  go 
back,"  he  said,  "  and  after  breakfast,  if  mamma  is 
willing,  we  will  all  come  and  take  a  row  together ; 
the  boat  is  large  enough  to  carry  us  all  at  once." 

Mamma's  consent  was  readily  obtained,  for  to 
please  her  children  was  her  great  delight.  So 
shortly  after  breakfast  they  all  repaired  to  the  lake 
and  rowed  round  and  across  it  several  times,  a 
merry,  happy  party. 

At  Roselands  the  family  were  gathered  about  the 
breakfast  table  and  the  principal  topic  of  conversa- 
tion was  the  return  of  the  party  from  Viamede. 
Calhoun  had  been  to  the  Oaks  the  previous  even- 
ing and  learned  of  their  safe  arrival. 

"  We  must  all  go  this  morning  and  call  upon 
them,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore. 

"We'll  divide  our  forces,"  said  Cal,  laughing. 
"Suppose  grandpa,  mother  and  Aunt  Enna,  go 
first  to  the  Oaks  ;  and  we  younger  ones  to  Ion  ?  " 

"Very  well,"  replied  the  old  gentleman,  "I 
shall  spend  an  hour  with  my  son,  then  ride  over  to 
see  Elsie  and  her  little  flock.  How  many  of  you 
young  folks  want  to  go  to  Ion  in  the  first  divi- 
sion?" 

"I!"  "  And  I  !  "  "And  I  !"  cried  one  and 
another. 

"But  you  can't  go  all  at  once,"  returned  their 


12  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

grandfather,  looking  around  upon  them  with  an 
amused  smile;  "the  carriage  is  roomy,  but  really 
you  are  too  many  for  it.  Besides  wouldn't  there 
be  some  danger  of  overwhelming  your  cousins?  " 

"Well,  I'm  going,  let  who  will  stay  at  home," 
observed  Molly  Percival  with  coul  decision.  "  The 
boys  can  ride,  I  mean  Cal,  and  Art,  and  Dick  and 
Wal ;  they  all  have  ponies  and  the  two  carriages 
will  hold  the  rest  of  us  if  we  crowd  a  little." 

"  I'm  not  going  to  be  bothered  with  Bob  or 
Betty,"  said  her  mother ;  "  they  may  go  with  you, 
or  wait  till  another  time." 

"Then  they'll  wait,"  remarked  Isadore  Conly, 
"for  I  shall  wear  my  best  silk  suit,  and  I  have  no 
notion  of  having  it  tumbled." 

"Last  year's  suit  is  quite  good  enough  for 
the  occasion,"  said  her  mother,  "they're  only 
cousins." 

"  But  rich  ones,  that  can  afford  to  dress,  and  I'll 
not  go  a  step  if  I  have  to  look  shabby." 

"Nor  I,"  chimed  in  her  sister.  "So  mamma 
you  may  as  well  resign  yourself  to  the  situation. 
It's  no  good  finding  fault  or  objecting,"  she  added 
with  a  laugh. 

"Take  your  own  way,  then,"  returned  her 
mother  indifferently,  "but  remember  there'll  be  no 
more  new  dresses  this  season." 

"  Dear  me,  why  aren't  we  as  rich  as  the  Tra- 
villas?  "  pouted  Isadore.  "  I  do  think  things  are 
very  unequally  divided  in  this  world." 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  13 

"  Never  mind  ;  the  wheel  of  fortune  often  takes 
a  turn,"  said  her  mother.  "  You  may  have  money 
left  you  some  day  (some  of  your  father's  relations 
are  still  rich),  and  you  may  make  a  grand  match." 

"  How  long  will  it  take  you  girls  to  don  your 
finery?"  ask  Cal,  pulling  out  his  watch.  "We'd 
better  start  as  soon  as  we  can  :  the  sun  will  be 
getting  hot." 

"I'm  done,"  said  Molly,  jumping  up,  "and 
I'll  be  ready  by  the  time  the  carriage  can  be 
brought  to  the  door.  Come  Isa  and  Virgy,  you've 
eaten  enough.  Cousin  Elsie  will  be  sure  to  treat 
us  to  something  good."  And  she  ran  gayly  from 
the  room. 

Molly,  just  turned  thirteen,  and  already  as  tall 
as  her  mother,  was  a  bright,  lively  girl,  full  of  fun 
and  frolic.  She  was  not  a  beauty,  but  had  a  clear 
complexion  and  fine  dark  eyes,  and  good  humor 
and  intelligence  lent  a  charm  to  her  face  that  made 
it  more  than  ordinarily  attractive. 

Dick  had  always  been  fond  of  her,  and  was 
beginning  to  take  a  brotherly  pride  in  her  good 
looks  and  intellectual  gifts. 

Enna's  feelings  toward  her  were  divided  be- 
tween motherly  pride  and  affection  on  the  one 
hand,  and  on  the  other  the  dread  of  being  made 
to  appear  old  by  the  side  of  so  tall  a  daughter ;  a 
dread  that  made  her  jealous  of  Dick  also. 

The  Conly  girls,  too,  were  growing  fast,  giving 
promise    of    fair,     graceful     womanhood,    Isadore 


14  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

particularly  of  great  beauty;  which  her  mother 
fondly  hoped  would  be  the  means  of  securing  her 
a  wealthy  husband;  for  Mrs.  Conly's  affections 
were  wholly  set  upon  the  things  of  this  life ;  by 
her  and  her  sister  Enna,  wealth  and  beauty  were 
esteemed  the  highest  good,  and  their  children  were 
trained  in  accordance  with  that  view  ;  the  moral 
atmosphere  of  the  house  being  very  different  from 
that  of  Ion,  where  the  lives  and  conversation  of 
the  parents  were  such  as  to  leave  no  doubt  in  the 
minds  of  their  children,  that  to  them  the  things  of 
time  and  sense  were  as  nothing  in  comparison  with 
those  of  eternity. 

Enna  followed  her  daughter  into  the  dressing- 
room  they  used  in  common. 

"Wear  the  very  best  you  have,  Molly,"  she 
said,  "I  don't  want  you  to  be  looked  down  upon 
as  a  poor  relation,  or  to  have  it  said  that  the  Conlys 
dress  better  than  my  children." 

"I'm  sure  they  don't,"  said  Molly,  ringing  for 
the  maid,  "  though  they'd  like  to  if  they  could, 
and  are  always  jealous  when  grandpa  makes  me  a 
present." 

"Of  course  they  are,  and  they  manage  to  get 
more  than  their  fair  share,  too,"  acquiesced  the 
mother  in  a  tone  of  irritation  ;  "  but  do  you  see 
to  it  that  they  don't  get  ahead  of  you  at  Ion ; 
remember  Elsie  is  as  rich  as  a  Jew,  and  likes  the 
credit  of  being  generous,  so  keep  on  the  right  side 
of  her,  if  you  want  handsome  presents." 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  15 

"I'm  sure  she  is  generous  and  doesn't  give  only 
for  the  credit  of  it,"  said  Molly. 

"Don't  give  me  any  impudence,"  returned  her 
mother  sharply.  "  Rachel,"  to  the  maid  who  just 
then  came  in  in  answer  to  the  bell,  "  dress  Miss 
Molly  first,  and  be  quick  about  it." 

Enna  superintended  the  business  in  person,  and 
in  a  way  that  sorely  tried  the  temper  and  nerves 
of  both  Molly  and  the  maid ;  the  child's  sash 
must  be  tied  and  retied,  her  hat  bent  this  way  and 
that,  her  collar  and  brooch  changed  again  and 
again,  till  she  was  ready  to  cry  with  impatience; 
and  when  at  last  she  started  for  the  door,  she  was 
called  back,  and  Rachel  ordered  to  change  her 
slippers  for  gaiter  boots. 

"I  don't  want  to  wear  them!  "  cried  Molly, 
fairly  stamping  with  impatience.  "  The  heels  are 
so  high  and  narrow,  I  can't  bear  them." 

"  They're  just  the  style  and  make  your  foot  look 
beautiful,"  said  her  mother,  "sit  down  and  let 
Rachel  put  them  on  you." 

"  Grandpa  says  they're  dangerous,  and  so  does 
Dr.  Barton,  too,"  grumbled  Molly. 

"Put  them  on  her,  Rachel,"  commanded  Enna. 
"  Molly,  behave  yourself,  or  you'll  stay  at  home." 

The  child  submitted  rather  sullenly,  muttering 
that  she  would  be  late. 

Rachel  was  fastening  the  second  boot,  when 
Isadore  and  Virginia  were  heard  running  down  the 
stairs,  calling  out  that  the  carriage  was  at  the  door. 


1 6  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"There!  I  knew  you'd  make  me  too  late!" 
cried  Molly.     "  Oh,  Rachel,  do  hurry  !  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Molly,  best  I  kin;  dar  dat's  de  las' 
button." 

Up  sprang  Molly,  and  away  in  hot  haste.  She 
gained  the  landing,  caught  her  heel  in  the  carpet 
on  the  first  step  of  the  next  flight,  and  a  wild 
shriek  rang  through  _the  house,  accompanied  by 
the  sound  of  a  heavy  body  tumbling  and  rolling 
down  the  stairs. 

Echoing  the  scream,  Enna  rushed  out  into  the 
upper  hall. 

Calhoun  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  was  picking 
Molly  up. 

"Is  she  hurt?  Is  she  killed?"  asked  the 
mother,  "  Molly,  Molly,  how  did  you  come  to  be 
so  awkward  ?  ' ' 

"I  wasn't  !  it  was  those  heels;  I  knew  they'd 
throw  me  down  some  day  1  "  cried  the  child  in 
tones  of  mingled  anger,  fright  and  pain. 

"  H'm  !  you're  not  killed ;  haven't  even  had  the 
temper  knocked  out  of  you,"  remarked  Enna,  go- 
ing back  to  her  dressing. 

"Poor  child,  you  must  be  hurt,"  said  Calhoun, 
laying  her  gently  on  a  sofa,  "  but  no  bones  broken, 
I  hope?" 

"I — I  don't  know,"  sobbed  Molly,  "it's  my 
back.     Oh,  dear  !  oh,  dear  !  " 

"  Oh,  Molly,  are  you  much  hurt?  shall  I  go  for 
the  doctor?  "  asked  Dick,  coming  to  her  side  pale 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  17 

with  fright.  "Mac's  right  here  at  the  door,  ready 
saddled  and  bridled,  and " 

"  Go  for  the  doctor  ?  "  interrupted  Molly.  "  No, 
indeed  !  It's  very  good  in  you,  Dick,  but  I  don't 
want  him ;  I  am  going  to  Ion  with  the  rest  of  you. 
I'm  ready  now." 

"  You  don't  look  much  like  it;  you're  as  pale  as 
a  ghost,"  he  said,  Calhoun  adding,  "You'd  better 
lie  still  for  a  while,  Molly ;  Dick  or  I  will  take  you 
over  this  evening,  if  you  find  yourself  able  to  go 
then." 

"Thank  you,  but  I'm  going  now,"  she  an- 
swered with  decision,  getting  up  and  taking  Dick's 
arm. 

He  helped  her  to  the  carriage,  where  Isadore, 
Virginia,  and  some  of  the  younger  ones  sat  wait- 
ing, and  placed  her  in  it. 

She  wiped  away  her  tears  and  tried  to  smile, 
while  answering  the  questions  and  condolences  of 
the  others,  and  the  party  moved  on. 

By  the  time  Ion  was  reached,  most  of  them  had 
nearly  forgotten  Molly's  accident,  till  Elsie  re- 
marked that  she  was  looking  pale,  and  asked  if  she 
were  quite  well. 

That  brought  out  the  story  of  her  fall. 

Elsie  heard  it  with  grave  concern  but  asked  few 
questions  as  Molly  seemed  annoyed  that  the  sub- 
ject had  been  introduced.  It  was  a  habit  of  her 
mother's  to  scold  her  for  awkwardness,  and  the 
child  was  sensitive  on  that  point. 


1 8  ELSIE'S  CHILD  RE  i\. 

When  the  young  people  had  left  and  the  older 
members  of  the  Roselands  family  called,  Elsie 
seized  a  favorable  opportunity  to  speak  of  Molly's 
pale  looks  and  urge  the  importance  of  calling  in  a 
physician  that  if  there  were  any  reason  to  appre- 
hend serious  results  from  the  fall,  measures  might 
be  promptly  taken  to  avert  the  danger. 

"She  can't  have  been  seriously  hurt,"  returned 
Enna  coldly,  "or  she  wouldn't  have  been  ready  to 
get  into  the  carriage  the  next  minute  and  ride  over 
here. ' ' 

"  By  the  way,"  said  her  father,  "  I  haven't  heard 
what  caused  her  fall." 

"  She's  an  awkward  child,  always  tumbling 
about,"  returned  Enna  reddening. 

"Especially  since  she  wears  those  fashionable 
boots  with  the  high  narrow  heels,"  he  remarked. 
"  Had  she  them  on  when  she  fell?  " 

Enna  reluctantly  admitted  that  such  was  the  fact. 

"I'll  send  them  into  town  to-day,  with  orders 
that  full  half  the  heel  shall  be  taken  off,"  he  said 
with  angry  decision. 


CHAPTER  THIRD. 

"  Tis  a  goodly  scene — 
Yon  river,  like  a  silvery  snake,  lays  out 
His  coil  i'  the  sunshine  lovingly." 

—Hunt. 

The  family  at  Ion  presently  fell  into  the  old 
routine  of  study,  work  and  play,  Elsie  resuming 
the  duties  of  governess;  but  as  the  heated  term 
drew  on,  she  and  the  little  ones,  especially  the 
babe,  began  to  droop. 

"  You  must  go  north  for  the  summer,"  said  Dr. 
Barton,  "start  as  soon  as  possible  and  don't  return 
till  October." 

"Would  you  recommend  the  seashore?"  asked 
Mr.  Travilla. 

"  H'm  !  that  might  answer  very  well,  but  moun- 
tain air  would,  I  think,  be  better." 

"Oh  then,  mamma!"  cried  Vi,  who  was  pres- 
ent and  had  been  an  eager  but  hitherto  silent 
listener,  "  won't  you  accept  Aunt  Lucy's  invita- 
tion ?  " 

"  Perhaps,  (laughter,"  Elsie  said  smiling  indul- 
gently into  the  bright  little  face,  "  but  we  will  take 
time  to  consider  what  will  be  best." 

"Where  is  that?"  asked  the  doctor,  "Lucy 
19 


20  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

Ross,  I  suppose,  but  I've  forgotten  where  they 
live." 

"  On  the  banks  of  the  Hudson  a  few  miles  south 
of  Newburgh.  The  Crags  they  call  their  place, 
and  a  beautiful  one  it  is.  'Twas  only  yesterday  I 
received  a  letter  from  Lucy,  urging  us  to  come  and 
spend  the  summer  with  her." 

"  I  should  say  go  by  all  means,"  said  the  doctor, 
taking  leave. 

There  were  reasons  for  hesitation  on  the  part  of 
the  careful  parents  of  which  the  physician  knew 
nothing.  The  young  Rosses,  all  unused  to  control, 
were  a  willful  set  not  likely  to  exert  a  beneficial  in- 
fluence over  other  children ;  that  was  the  demur. 

However  the  final  decision  was  in  favor  of  the 
visit,  and  a  few  days  later  they  set  out  upon  their 
journey;  Mr.  Horace  Dinsmore  taking  charge  of 
them,  as  business  made  it  inconvenient  for  Mr. 
Travilla  to  leave  just  at  that  time. 

From  New  York  they  passed  up  the  Hudson  in  a 
steamboat ;  the  carriage  from  the  Crags  was  found 
in  waiting  at  the  landing,  and  a  short  drive  brought 
them  to  the  house,  which  stood  high  up  above  the 
river,  in  the  midst  of  magnificent  mountain  scenery. 

The  Ion  children,  taught  from  early  infancy  to 
notice  the  beauties  of  nature,  were  in  ecstasies  of 
delight,  exclaiming  anew  at  every  turn  in  the  road, 
calling  each  other's,  mamma's  or  grandpa's  atten- 
tion to  the  sparkling  river,  the  changing  shadows 
on  the  mountainsides,  here  a  beetling  crag,  there 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  21 

a  waterfall  or  secluded  glen.  Having  rested  the 
previous  night,  sleeping  soundly  at  a  hotel,  they 
were  not  wearied  with  travel  but  seemed  fresher 
now  than  when  they  left  their  home. 

Lucy  and  her  little  flock,  gathered  on  the  front 
porch  to  receive  their  guests,  gave  them  a  warm 
welcome.  The  two  ladies  had  lost  none  of  the  af- 
fection for  each  other  which  had  been  one  of  the 
happinesses  of  their  childhood  and  early  youth, 
and  each  loved  the  children  of  the  other  for  the 
mother's  sake  if  not  for  their  own.  They  num- 
bered the  same,  but  Sophie,  Lucy's  youngest,  was 
now  in  her  fifth  year,  and  Baby  Lily  was  greeted  with 
many  expressions  and  demonstrations  of  delight. 

Lucy  excused  her  husband's  absence  :  he  was 
away  on  business,  she  said,  but  would  be  at  home 
before  night. 

"  Where's  Phil?  "  asked  Eddie,  turning  to  Ger- 
trude. 

"  0!i,  he's  at  boarding-school,  don't  you  know?" 
she  answered.  "He'll  be  home  in  vacation  ;  but 
that  doesn't  begin  for  two  weeks  yet." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  tarried  for  a  few  days,  then  re- 
turned to  the  neighborhood  of  Philadelphia,  where 
he  had  left  his  wife  anil  Rosie,  who  were  visiting 
their  northern  relatives. 

Miss  Fisk  was  still  governess  at  the  Crags,  and 
when  the  children  had  had  a  week  of  play  together, 
it  was  thought  best  by  the  mammas,  that  two  hours 
of  each  morning  should  be  devoted  to  lessons. 


22  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

Knowing  Miss  Fisk  to  be  not  only  well  educated 
and  refined,  but  also  a  conscientious  and  good 
woman,  Elsie  was  willing  to  entrust  her  children  to 
her  care  ;  the  more  so,  because  Lily  in  her  feeble 
state,  required  much  of  her  own  time  and  attention. 

In  the  midst  of  a  beautiful  giove  of  oaks  and 
maples,  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  scarce  more  than  a 
stone's  throw  from  the  mansion,  and  within  full 
view  of  its  windows,  stood  a  small  brick  building 
owned  by  Mr.  Ross,  and  used  as  a  summer  school- 
room for  the  children. 

It  was  a  cool  shady  spot,  enlivened  by  the  songs 
of  the  wild  birds  who  built  their  nests  in  the  trees, 
and  the  musical  tinkle  of  a  little  waterfall  that 
came  tumbling  down  from  the  heights  above  not 
half-a-dozen  yards  from  the  door. 

Mr.  Ross  had  furnished  the  room  with  comfort- 
able and  convenient  chairs  and  desks,  and  Lucy 
had  made  it  pretty  and  tasteful  with  white  muslin 
curtains  and  neatly  papered  walls  of  a  soft  neutral 
tint,  enlivened  by  a  few  gayly  colored  pictures. 
Woodwork  and  floor  were  stained  a  rich  dark 
brown,  bright  soft  rugs  were  scattered  here  and 
there ;  and  altogether  the  place  was  as  inviting  as 
a  lady's  parlor. 

The  Ion  children  were  well  content  to  spend 
here  two  or  three  hours  of  that  part  of  the  day 
when  the  sun  was  too  hot  for  them  to  be  exposed 
to  his  rays  with  safety  and  comfort  :  the  others 
found  lessons  made  much  more  agreeable  by  the 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REN.  23 

companionship  of  their  young  guests,  and  Miss 
Fisk  was  glad  to  take  them  under  her  charge,  be- 
cause by  their  intelligence  they  added  greatly  to 
the  interest  of  her  work,  while  their  respectful 
obedient  behavior  exerted  an  excellent  influence 
upon  her  other  pupils. 

Before  leaving  home,  Elsie,  after  careful  and 
prayerful  consideration,  thought  it  best  to  have  a 
plain  talk  with  her  older  children  about  the  temp- 
tations that  were  likely  to  assail  them  during  their 
visit  to  the  Crags. 

They  had  had  some  past  experience  of  the  ways 
of  Lucy's  children,  and  she  knew  they  had  not  for- 
gotten it ;  and  reminding  them  of  the  Bible  dec- 
laration, that  "evil  communications  corrupt  good 
manners,"  she  bade  them,  while  refraining  as  far 
as  possible  from  judging  their  little  friends,  at  the 
same  time  to  carefully  avoid  following  their  exam- 
ple in  anything  they  knew  to  be  wrong. 

"Mamma,"  said  Vi,  "perhaps  sometimes  we 
mightn't  know  if  it  was  wrong  !  " 

"I  think  you  will,  daughter,  if  you  take  a  mo- 
ment to  think;  and  if  you  are  doubtful,  you  may 
be  pretty  sure  it  is  wrong." 

"  Mamma,  we  mustn't  tell  tales  to  you  ?  " 

"No,  dear;  but  perhaps  you  can  consult  me 
without  that ;  and  do  not  forget  that  you  can  al- 
ways lift  up  your  heart  to  God  for  help  to  know 
and  do  the  right." 

"  Yes,  mamma,"  returned  the  little  girl  thought- 


24  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

fully,  "and  I  do  believe  Elsie  will  'most  always  be 
there  and  know  what's  right." 

"I'm  not  sure,"  said  her  sister,  with  a  grave 
shake  of  the  head,  "  I  wish  we  could  always  have 
mamma  by  to  tell  us." 

"  But  mamma  cannot  be  with  you  always,  dar- 
lings," Elsie  said,  regarding  them  with  yearning 
tenderness,  "and  so,  as  your  papa  and  I  have 
often  told  you,  you  must  learn  to  think  and  decide 
for  yourselves ;  about  some  things  now,  and  about 
others  as  you  grow  older  and  wiser.  Some  things 
the  Bible  "tells  us  plainly,  and  in  regard  to  those 
we  have  nothing  to  do  but  obey." 


CHAPTER  FOURTH. 

"  A  child  left  to  himself  bringeth  his  mother  to  shame." 
— Proverbs  xxix.  15. 

Lucy,  too,  had  a  talk  with  her  children,  in 
which  she  begged  them  quite  pathetically,  not  to 
disgrace  her  before  the  expected  guests,  Mr.  Dins- 
more  especially,  who  was  so  very  strict  in  his  ideas 
of  how  children  ought  to  be  brought  up,  and  how 
they  should  behave. 

They  promised  readily  enough  to  "  behave 
splendidly"  and  for  a  few  days  did  so  astonish- 
ingly well  that,  as  she  laughingly  said,  "  she  began 
to  grow  frightened  lest  they  were  becoming  too 
good  to  live." 

But  she  need  not  have  been  alarmed ;  the  reac- 
tion was  not  long  in  coming  and  was  sufficient  to 
relieve  all  apprehension  that  they  were  in  imme- 
diate danger  from  an  overplus  of  goodness. 

It  began  on  the  morning  after  Mr.  Dinsmore's 
departure.  Gertrude  was  late  to  breakfast,  and 
when  reproved  by  her  mother  answered  in  a  man- 
ner so  disrespectful  as  to  quite  astonish  the  young 
Travillas.  They  expected  to  see  her  banished  at 
once  from  the  table  and  the  room  ;  but  her  mother 
only  looked  grave  and  said  in  a  tone  of  displeasure, 
25 


26  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"  Gertrude,  I  cannot  have  you  speak  to  me  in  that 
way — Don't  do  it  again." 

"I  don't  care;  you  needn't  scold  so  about  every 
little  trifle  then,"  muttered  the  delinquent  in  an 
undertone,  pulling  the  dish  of  meat  toward  her, 
helping  herself  and  spilling  the  gravy  on  the  clean 
tablecloth. 

Mrs.  Ross  did  not  seem  to  hear,  she  was  spread- 
ing a  piece  of  bread  with  the  sweetest  and  freshest 
of  butter,  for  Sophie. 

"  I  don't  want  it,  I  want  waffles  !  "  screamed  the 
child,  snatching  up  the  bread  the  instant  it  was  laid 
on  her  plate,  and  dashing  it  on  to  the  carpet. 

"You  are  not  well  this  morning,  dear,  and 
mamma  thinks  waffles  might  make  her  darling 
worse,"  said  Lucy  in  a  soothing  tone.  "  Come 
now  be  a  good  baby,  and  eat  the  bread.  Shall 
mamma  spread  another  piece  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  naughty  mamma  !  I'll  jus'  frow  it  on 
the  floor  if  you  do,"  cried  the  child,  bursting  into 
angry  sobs. 

"  Shall  mamma  have  some  toast  made  for  her  ?  " 
(coaxingly). 

"No,  no!  waffles!  and  butter  on  waffles,  and 
'lasses  on  butter,  and  sugar  on  'lasses !  " 

The  mother  laughed.  It  seemed  to  irritate  the 
child  still  further  j  and  she  screamed  louder  than 
ever,  slid  down  from  her  chair  and  stamped  her 
foot  with  rage. 

Mrs.  Ross  was  deeply  mortified  at  the  exhibition. 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  27 

"  Pick  her  up  and  carry  her  to  the  nursery,"  she 
said  to  a  servant. 

Sophie  kicked  and  struggled,  but  the  girl, — a 
strong  and  determined  one — carried  her  away  by 
main  force. 

"I'm  dreadfully  ashamed  of  her,  Elsie,"  Lucy 
said,  turning  to  her  friend;  "but  she's  a  nervous 
little  creature  and  we  must  try  to  excuse  her." 

' '  A  few  hearty  slaps  would  reverse  the  nervous 
currents  and  do  her  an  immense  amount  of  good, 
Mrs.  Ross,"  remarked  the  governess  in  her  slow, 
precise  way. 

"Slaps,  Miss  Fisk,"  returned  Lucy  reddening, 
"I  don't  approve  of  corporal  punishment,  as  I 
have  told  you  more  than  once.  I  was  never 
whipped,  and  I  don't  intend  that  any  of  my  chil- 
dren shall  be." 

"  Most  assuredly  not,  madam ;  but  I  was  recom- 
mending it  not  as  a  punishment  for  disobedience  or 
ill  temper,  but  simply  as  a  remedial  agent.  I  have 
never  experienced  anything  of  the  kind  myself, 
Mrs.  Ross,  but  have  heard  it  remarked  that  nerv- 
ousness occasions  greater  suffering  than  what  is 
generally  understood  by  the  term  pain  ;  therefore 
I  suggested  it  as  I  should  the  amputation  of  a  dis- 
eased member  when  necessary  in  order  to  preserve 
life." 

"Permit  me  to  remark,"  returned  Lucy,  "that 
unmasked  advice  is  seldom  acceptable,  and  now  a 
truce    to    discussion,     if    you    please.     My    dear 


28  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

Elsie,"  turning  to  Mrs.  Travilla,  "I  beg  you  to 
excuse  our  ill-manners.  It  strikes  me  that  none  of 
us  are  behaving  quite  as  we  ought  this  morning. 
Hal  and  Archie,  what's  wrong  between  you  now?  " 
For  the  two  boys,  seated  side  by  side,  were  scowl- 
ing at  each  other,  and  muttering  angrily  half  under 
their  breath. 

"  Why,  ma,  he  went  and  took  the  very  piece  of 
meat  I  just  said  I  was  going  to  have,"  whimpered 
Archie,  digging  his  fists  into  his  eyes. 

"Well,  I  don't  care,"  retorted  Harry,  "I'd  as 
good  a  right  as  you,  and  I  was  ready  first." 

"Give  him  a  part  of  it,  can't  you?"  said  his 
mother. 

"  'Tain't  more'n  I  want  myself." 

"I  won't  have  it  after  it's  been  on  his  plate," 
exclaimed  both  together. 

"Boys,  I'm  ashamed  of  you  !  "  said  Lucy,  "I 
wish  your  father  were  here  to  keep  you  straight. 
You  don't  dare  behave  so  before  him.  I'm  sure  your 
little  friends  would  never  act  so.  Don't  you  see  how 
your  naughtiness  astonishes  them  ?  Vi,  would  you 
talk  to  your  mamma  as  my  children  do  to  me  ?  " 

The  large  blue  eyes  opened  wide  upon  the 
questioner  in  half  incredulous,  reproachful  sur- 
prise, then  turned  upon  the  beautiful,  gentle  face 
of  Mrs.  Travilla  with  an  expression  of  ardent 
affection  mingled  with  admiration  and  respect. 
"O  Aunt  Lucy  !  could  you  b'lieve  I'd  do  that  to 
my  mamma  ?  ' ' 


ELSIE' S  CHILD  REX.  29 

The  very  thought  of  so  wounding  that  tender 
mother  heart  was  evidently  so  full  of  pain  to  the 
little  one,  that  Elsie  could  not  refrain  from  respond- 
ing to  the  appeal,  "  Mamma  knows  you  would  not, 
darling." 

"Oh,  no,  mamma,  'cause  I  love  you!"  cried 
the  child,  the  young  face  growing  bright  with 
smiles. 

"  Atmospheric  influences  have  often  a  great  deal 
to  do  with  these  things  ;  do  you  not  find  it  so  ?  " 
Elsie  said,  turning  to  her  friend. 

"  Yes,  I  have  noticed  that !  "  Lucy  said,  catch- 
ing gladly  at  the  suggestion :  "  and  the  air  is 
certainly  unusually  oppressive  this  morning.  I 
feel  nervous  myself.  I  think  we'll  have  a  gust  be- 
fore night." 

The  last  words  were  spoken  in  an  undertone,  but 
the  quick  ear  of  Gertrude  caught  them.  "  Then  I 
shan't  go  to  school,"  she  announced  decidedly. 

"  Nonsense,"  said  her  mother,  "'twon't  be  here 
till  afternoon  ;   probably  not  till  night,  if  at  all." 

"  Now,  ma,  you're  just  saying  that.  Aunt  Elsie, 
do  you  really  think  it  won't  come  soon  ?  " 

Glancing  through  the  open  window  at  the 
mountains  and  the  sky,  Elsie  answered  that  she 
saw  no  present  indications  of  a  storm;  there  was 
nothing  to  betoken  it  but  the  heat  and  closeness  of 
the  air. 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  thunder,  Aunt  Elsie?  "  asked 
Harry. 


30  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"Lightning,  you  silly  boy,"  corrected  Gertrude, 
"  nobody's  afraid  of  thunder." 

"  Yes,  you  are,"  he  retorted.  "  You  just  ought 
to  see,  Ed,  how  scared  she  gets,"  and  Harry  laughed 
scornfully. 

Gertrude  was  ready  with  an  indignant  retort,  but 
her  mother  stopped  her.  "  If  you  are  really  brave, 
Gertrude,  you  can  have  an  excellent  opportunity 
to  show  it  when  the  storm  comes."  Then  to 
Harry,  "Let  your  sister  alone,  or  I'll  send  you 
from  the  room." 

The  gust,  a  very  severe  one,  came  in  the  after- 
noon. Before  it  was  fairly  upon  them,  Lucy,  her- 
self pale  with  terror,  had  collected  her  children  in 
a  darkened  room  and  seated  them  all  on  a  feather- 
bed, where  they  remained  during  the  storm,  half 
stifled  by  the  heat,  the  little  ones  clinging  to  their 
mother,  hiding  their  heads  in  her  lap  and  crying 
with  fear. 

Elsie  and  her  children  formed  a  different  group ; 
the  mother  the  central  figure  here  also,  her  darlings 
gathered  closely  about  her,  in  her  dressing-room — 
at  a  safe  distance  from  the  open  windows — watch- 
ing with  awed  delight,  the  bursting  of  the  storm 
clouds  over  the  mountain-tops,  the  play  of  the 
lightning,  the  sweep  of  the  rain  down  from  the 
heights  into  the  valleys  and  river  below,  listening 
to  the  crash  and  roar  of  the  thunder  as  it  rever- 
berated among  the  hills,  one  echo  taking  it  up  after 
another,  and  repeating  it  to  the  next,  till  it  sounded 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  31 

like  the  explosions  of  many  batteries  of  heavy  ar- 
tillery, now  near  at  hand,  now  farther  and  farther 
away. 

'•Mamma,  isn't  it  grand?"  exclaimed  Eddie,  in 
one  of  the  brief  pauses  in  the  wild  uproar  of  the 
elements. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "the  thunder  of  his  power 
who  can  understand  ?  " 

"Is  it  God,  mamma?  does  God  make  it?" 
asked  little  Herbert. 

"  Yes,  dear;  'when  he  uttereth  his  voice,  there 
is  a  multitude  of  waters  in  the  heavens,  and  he 
causeth  the  vapors  to  ascend  from  the  ends  of  the 
earth ;  he  maketh  lightnings  with  rain,  and  bring- 
eth  forth  the  wind  out  of  his  treasuries.'  " 

"  We  needn't  be  'f'aid,  mamma?  " 

"No,  darling,  no;  for  God  is  our  Father;  He 
loves  us  and  will  take  care  of  us." 

The  storm  was  very  violent  while  it  lasted,  but 
soon  passed  away ;  the  sun  shone  out,  and  a  beau- 
tiful rainbow  spanned  the  eastern  sky  above  the 
mountain-tops. 

Elsie's  children  clapped  their  hands  in  ecstasy, 
and  ran  to  call  their  little  friends  to  enjoy  the  sight 
with  them.  Mrs.  Ross  followed,  looking  so  pale 
and  exhausted,  that  Elsie  inquired  with  concern  if 
she  were  ill. 

"Oh,  it  was  the  storm  !  "  she  said,  "wasn't  it 
fearful  ?  1  was  sure  the  house  would  be  struck  and 
some  of  us  killed.      Weren't  you  frightened?" 


32  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"  No,"  Elsie  said,  with  a  kindly  reassuring  smile, 
"I  presume  my  nerves  are  stronger  than  yours,  and 
I  am  not  naturally  timid  in  regard  to  thunder  and 
lightning.  Besides,  I  know  so  well  that  he  who 
guides  and  controls  it  is  my  Father  and  my  Friend. 
Come,  look  at  his  bow  of  promise. ' ' 

The  children  were  in  a  group  about  the  window, 
gazing  and  admiring. 

"Let's  ask  mamma  for  the  story  of  it,"  Vi  was 
saying. 

"  The  story  of  it  ?  "  repeated  Archie  Ross. 

"Yes;  don't  you  know?  about  Noah  and  the 
flood." 

"I  never  heard  it." 

"Oh,  Archie,  it's  in  the  Bible;  grandma  told 
it  to  us  once,"  exclaimed  his  sister  Gertrude. 

"I  didn't  hear  it,  anyhow,"  persisted  the  boy, 
"do,  Vi,  coax  Aunt  Elsie  to  tell  it." 

The  petition  was  readily  granted.  Mrs.  Tra- 
villa  was  an  inimitable  story-teller,  and  Lucy, 
whose  knowledge  of  Scripture  history  was  but 
superficial,  listened  to  the  narrative  with  almost  as 
much  interest  and  pleasure  as  did  the  children. 

"  I  would  give  anything  for  your  talent  for  story- 
telling, Elsie,"  she  said  at  its  conclusion. 

"Oh,  another!  another!  Please  tell  us  an- 
other?" cried  a  chorus  of  young  voices. 

Mrs.  Travilla  drew  out  her  watch,  and  holding 
it  up  with  a  smile,  "Not  just  now,  my  dears,"  she 
said,  "  see  it  is  almost  tea-time,  and,"  she  added, 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  33 

playfully,  "some  of  us  have  need  to  change  our 
dresses  and  smooth  our  tangled  tresses." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Lucy,  rising  hastily,  "and 
I  expect  my  husband  home.  I  must  send  the  car- 
riage off  at  once  to  the  depot ;  for  the  train  is 
nearly  due." 

Thereupon  a  cry  was  raised  among  the  Rosses  as 
they  flew  after  their  mother,  "I  want  to  go  for 
papa  !  "  "  and  I !  "  "  It's  my  turn,  I  say,  and  I 
will  go  !  "     "  No,  you  shan't,  for  it's  mine." 


CHAPTER  FIFTH. 

«  She  fed  me  first  to  God  ; 
Her  words  and  prayers  were  my  young  spirit's  dew." 

— PlERPONT. 

"Hallo!  this  looks  like  welcome;  every  one 
of  you  been  crying !  "  Mr.  Ross  said,  catching  up 
Sophie  in  his  arms,  and  glancing  about  upon  his 
group  of  children,  after  an  affectionate  greeting  to 
his  wife,  and  a  cordially  kind  one  to  their  guest. 

"  What's  the  trouble?  so  sorry  papa  was  coming 
home,  eh?  " 

"No,  no,  that  wasn't  it,  papa,"  they  cried, 
crowding  around  him,  each  eager  to  claim  the  first 
caress,  "it  wasn't  that,  but  we  wanted  to  go  for 
you,  and  mamma  wouldn't  let  us." 

"  Yes,"  said  Lucy,  "  they  all  wanted  to  go  and 
as  that  couldn't  be,  and  no  one  would  give  up  to 
the  others,  I  kept  them  all  at  home." 

"  Quite  right,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  I'm  afraid  you 
hardly  deserve  the  pretty  gifts  I  have  brought." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,  papa,  we'll  be  good  next  time  I 
Indeed  we  will !     Mamma,  coax  him  !  " 

"Yes,  do  let  them  have  them,  Phil,"  urged  his 
wife,  "  where  would  be  the  use  of  keeping  the 
things  back  after  spending  your  money  for  them  ?  " 
34 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  35 

"  To  teach  them  a  good  lesson.  I'm  afraid  both 
you  and  I  are  foolishly  indulgent,  Lucy." 

"Oh,  they'll  be  good  next  time." 

"  This  once  then,  but  only  this  once,  unless  they 
keep  their  word,"  he  said,  producing  his  gifts — a 
book  or  toy  for  each  of  his  own  children,  and  a 
package  of  sweetmeats  which  he  divided  among  all 
present. 

He  had  brought  a  new  dog  home  with  him,  but 
no  one  but  Eddie  had  noticed  it  yet.  He  was 
stroking  and  patting  it,  saying,  "Poor  fellow,  what 
kin  1  of  a  dog  are  you  ?  " 

"A  French  poodle,"  said  Mr.  Ross,  coming  up 
to  them,  "A  good  watch  dog,  and  excellent  for 
scaring  up  the  wild  ducks  for  the  sportsmen.  Do 
you  and  papa  keep  up  the  shooting  lessons,  master 
Eddie?" 

"Yes,  sir;  papa  has  always  said  he  meant  to 
make  me  as  good  a  shot  as  himself,  and  mamma 
says  it  was  never  his  way  to  give  up  till  a  thing's 
thoroughly  done,"  returned  the  boy,  proudly. 

"And  you  don't  equal  him  as  a  shot  yet,  eh?" 

"No,  sir!  no,  indeed!  Why,  even  cousin  Cal 
Conly — a  big  man — can't  shoot  as  well  as  papa." 

"What  an  ugly  dog!"  exclaimed  the  other 
children,  gathering  round. 

"What  did  you  buy  it  for,  papa?"  asked  Ger- 
trude. 

"Not  for  beauty,  certainly,"  laughed  Mr.  Ross, 
stroking  and  patting  the  shaggy  head  of  the  dog, 


36  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

who  was  covered  with  curly  hair  of  a  dirty  white* 
mottled  with  dull  brown,  "but  for  worth  which  is 
far  better.     Isn't  it,  Ranger?  " 

A  wag  of  his  bushy  tail,  was  Ranger's  only 
reply. 

"Will  he  bite?"  asked  little  Herbert,  shrinking 
back  as  the  newcomer  turned  toward  him. 

"  Tramps  and  burglars  ;  but  not  good  children," 
replied  Mr.  Ross.  "  You  needn't  be  afraid  of  him, 
my  little  man." 

Through  the  evening  there  was  a  great  deal  of 
romping  between  the  children  and  the  new  dog, 
but  little  Elsie  seemed  unusually  quiet,  scarcely 
stirring  from  her  mother's  side.  She  was  suffering 
with  toothache,  but  kept  her  trouble  to  herself; 
principally,  because  she  had  a  great  dread  of  the 
dentist's  instruments. 

But  in  the  night  the  pain  grew  so  severe  that  she 
could  not  keep  from  crying  and  groaning.  She 
did  not  want  to  wake  any  one,  so  buried  her  face 
in  the  pillow  to  smother  the  sound  of  her  sobs  ;  but 
presently  a  gentle  hand  touched  her  caressingly, 
and  mamma's  sweet  voice  asked,  "What  ails  my 
little  daughter?" 

"O  mamma  I  did  not  mean  to  wake  you!  " 
cried  the  little  girl  sitting  up  with  her  hand  pressed 
to  her  cheek,  "  but  the  pain  was  so  bad  I  couldn't 
help  making  a  noise." 

"My  poor  dear  little  girl  !  did  you  think  your 
mother  would  want  to  sleep  when  her  child  was  in 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN..  37 

pain  ?  ' '  Elsie  said,  clasping  her  in  her  arms.  "  No, 
indeed  !  so  do  not  try  to  bear  any  pain  alone 
another  time." 

Mamma's  loving  sympathy  was  very  sweet ;  the 
pain  was  soon  relieved,  too,  by  some  medicine  she 
put  into  the  tooth,  and  presently  all  was  forgotten 
in  sound  refreshing  sleep. 

Elsie  came  into  her  mamma's  dressing-room  the 
next  morning,  along  with  the  others,  looking  as 
bright  and  well  as  was  her  wont,  yet  with  the  boding 
fear  that  something  would  be  said  to  her  about 
having  the  troublesome  tooth  extracted. 

However  to  her  relief  the  subject  was  not 
broached  at  all ;  they  had  their  usual  reading  and 
prayer,  recitation  of  texts  and  talk  with  mamma 
about  the  lessons  contained  in  them,  and  then  the 
breakfast  bell  summoned  them  to  their  morning  meal. 

The  tooth  was  quiet  for  a  few  days,  then  ached 
again  for  several  hours  harder  than  ever. 

"  O  mamma,  mamma,  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  sobbed 
the  child  in  the  midst  of  her  pain. 

"  Couldn't  my  little  girl  pluck  up  courage  enough 
to  have  it  out?  "  asked  the  mother  tenderly. 

"O  mamma,  don't  say  I  must!  please  don't; 
I'm  so  frightened  at  the  very  thought  !  " 

"  Ah,  if  I  could  only  bear  it  for  you,  my  dar- 
ling !  but  you  know  I  cannot." 

"No,  dear  mamma,  and  I  couldn't  be  so  selfish 
as  to  let  you,  if  you  could.  But  must  I  have  it 
out?" 


38  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"  I  have  not  said  so ;  I  should  far  rather  my  deal 
daughter  would  say  must  to  herself." 

"Ought  I,  mamma?" 

"Ought  you  not?  The  tooth  has  become  only 
a  source  of  pain  and  trouble  to  you  ;  if  left  it  will 
cause  the  others  to  decay,  and  decayed  teeth  injure 
the  health.  Health  is  one  of  God*s  best  gifts  and 
it  is  our  duty  to  use  every  means  in  our  power  to 
preserve  it." 

"  Yes,  mamma,  but  oh,  I'm  so  afraid  !  "  cried 
the  child,  trembling  and  weeping. 

"  My  darling,  resolve  to  do  your  duty  with  God's 
help,  and  he  will  fulfill  his  promise  to  you.  '  As 
thy  days  so  shall  thy  strength  be.'  " 

Little  Elsie  had  long  ago  given  her  heart  to 
Jesus;  love  to  him  was  the  ruling  motive  of  her 
life,  and  to  please  and  honor  him  she  was  ready  to 
do  or  endure  anything.  "I  will  try,  mamma," 
she  said,  "and  you  too  will  ask  God  to  help 
me?  " 

Mamma  gave  the  promise,  sealing  it  with  a  very 
tender  kiss. 

Mr.  Ross  was  going  down  to  New  York  the  next 
morning,  and  it  was  soon  arranged  that  his  wife, 
Mrs,  Travilla  and  little  Elsie,  should  accompany 
him. 

Mrs.  Ross  had  some  shopping  to  do,  but  would 
first  take  the  two  Elsies  to  her  dentist,  so  that  the 
little  girl's  trial  might  be  over  as  soon  as  possible 
and  she  able  to  enjoy  some  sight-seeing  afterward. 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  39 

Baby  Lily  was  better  and  could  be  safely  entrusted 
for  the  day  to  Aunt  Chloe's  faithful  care. 

The  plan  was  concealed  from  the  Ross  children 
because,  as  their  mother  said,  "  it  was  the  only 
way  to  have  any  peace."  So  they  were  allowed  to 
sleep  until  the  travelers  had  taken  an  early  break- 
fast and  gone. 

The  little  Travillas,  however,  were  up  and  saw 
the  departure,  bidding  a  cheerful  good-bye  to 
"mamma  and  sister  Elsie,"  sending  wistful,  long- 
ing looks  after  the  carriage  as  it  rolled  away,  but 
making  no  complaint  that  they  were  left  behind. 

'  <  Poor  dear  Elsie  !  "  Vi  said  with  tears  in  her 
eyes,  "it's  just  dreadful  that  she  must  have  that 
tooth  extricated." 

"  Extracted,"  corrected  Eddie.  "  Vi,  you  seem 
to  forget  what  mamma  says  : — that  you  should 
never  use  a  big  word  unless  you  are  sure  you  have 
it  right ;  or  when  a  little  one  would  do  as  well." 

"What  little  one?" 

"Pulled." 

"  Couldn't  it  be  pulled  and  not  come  out?" 

"  Well  then  you  might  say  pulled  out." 

"I  like  the  other  word  best,"  persisted  Vi. 
"  But  we  needn't  be  particular  about  words  when 
Elsie's  going  to  be  so  dreadfully  hurt." 

Herbert  burst  out  crying  at  that. 

"Why  Herbie  what  ails  you?"  asked  Vi,  put- 
ting her  arms  round  his  neck  and  giving  him  a 
kiss. 


40  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"I  don't  want  the  mans  to  hurt  my  Elsie," 
sobbed  the  little  fellow,  "maybe  dey'll  kill 
her." 

"Oh,  no,  they  won't!  mamma  will  never  let 
them  do  that.  They'll  only  take  away  the  naughty 
tooth  that  hurts  her  so." 

"  Come  let's  go  and  walk  round  the  garden," 
said  Eddie,  taking  Herbie's  hand,  "mamma  said 
we  might. ' ' 

The  breakfast  bell  called  them  in  to  find  the 
Rosses  making  a  perfect  bedlam  in  their  anger  and 
disappointment  at  being  left  behind  by  their  par- 
ents. Sophie  was  screaming  and  stamping  with 
rage,  the  boys  and  Kate  were  whimpering  and 
scolding,  and  Gertrude  walking  about  with  flashing 
eyes,  was  saying,  "I'll  never  forgive  mamma  for 
this,  no  I  never  will ;  for  she'd  promised  to  take 
me  along  next  time  she  went  to  the  city." 

Violet,  Eddie,  and  Harold  hearing  these  words, 
looked  at  each  other  in  horrified  silence.  "How 
could  she  speak  so  of  her  own  mother  ?  " 

Miss  Fisk  came  in,  in  her  quiet,  deliberate  way 
and  stood  looking  for  a  moment  from  one  to  an- 
other of  her  pupils  in  a  sort  of  amazed,  reproving 
silence  that  presently  had  the  effect  of  quieting 
them  down  a  little.     Then  she  spoke. 

"Young  ladies  and  young  gentlemen,  I  am 
astonished  !  especially  at  your  expressions  and  be- 
havior, Miss  Gertrude  Ross.  How  you  can  permit 
yourself  to  indulge  in  such  invectives  against  par- 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  41 

ents  so  extremely  indulgent  as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ross, 
I  cannot  conceive." 

Sophie  whose  screams  had  sunk  to  sobs,  now 
permitted  the  servant  to  lift  her  to  her  high  chair, 
Kate  and  the  boys  slunk  shamefacedly  into  their 
seats  at  the  table,  and  Gertrude,  muttering  some- 
thing about  "people  not  keeping  their  promises," 
followed  their  example. 

"Come,  sit  down,  my  dears,"  Miss  Fisk  said, 
turning  to  Violet  and  her  brothers  ;  "  the  tempest 
seems  to  have  nearly  subsided  and  I  hope  will  not 
resume  its  violence." 

Herbie  was  clinging  to  Vi  in  a  frightened  way, 
sobbing  "  I  want  mamma  !  "  and  Harold's  eyes 
too  were  full  of  tears.  It  took  coaxing  and  sooth- 
ing to  restore  their  equanimity  and  then  the  break- 
fast proceeded,  everybody  seeming  to  grow  brighter 
and  more  good  humored  with  the  satisfying  of  the 
appetite  for  food. 

Vi  was  a  merry  little  creature,  a  veritable  bit  of 
sunshine  wherever  she  went,  and  under  the  influ- 
ence of  her  bright  looks  and  ways,  sweet  rippling 
laughter  and  amusing  speeches,  the  whole  party  at 
length  grew  quite  merry  :  especially  after  Miss  Fisk 
had  announced  that  there  were  to  be  no  lessons 
that  day  but  instead  a  picnic  in  the  woods. 


CHAPTER  SIXTH. 

"  By  sports  like  these  are  all  their  cares  beguil'd, 
The  sports  of  children  satisfy  the  child." 

— Goldsmith. 

"Good!  good!"  cried  the  children.  "Oh, 
delightful !     But  where  are  we  going?  " 

"To  the  grove  adjacent  to  the  schoolhouse," 
replied  the  governess.  "We  could  not  find  a 
lovelier  spot,  and  its  proximity  to  the  mansion 
renders  it  most  eligible." 

"'Proximity,  eligible,  adjacent;  '  what  do  you 
mean  by  those  words,  Miss  Fisk  ? "  asked  Ger- 
trude, a  little  contemptuously. 

"  I  desire  you  to  consult  one  of  our  standard 
lexicographers.  You  will  then  be  far  more  likely 
to  retain  the  definitions  in  your  memory,"  returned 
the  governess,  ignoring  the  tone  of  her  pupil. 

Gertrude  shrugged  her  shoulders,  with  impa- 
tience, muttering  audibly,  "  I  wish  you'd  talk  like 
other  people,  and  not  like  a  dictionary." 

"  You  quarrel  with  my  phraseology,  because  you 
do  not  understand  it,"  observed  Miss  Fisk,  non- 
chalantly, "which  is  very  irrational,  since  were  I 
never  to  employ,  in  conversing  with  you,  words 
beyond  your  comprehension,  you  would  lose  the 
42 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  43 

advantage  of  being  induced  to  increase  your  stock 
of  information  by  a  search  for  their  meaning." 

"If  that's  what  you  do  it  for,  you  may  as  well 
give  it  up  at  once,"  returned  Gertrude,  "for  I 
don't  care  enough  about  your  meaning  to  take  half 
that  trouble." 

"Miss  Gertrude,  permit  me  to  remark  that  you 
are  lacking  in  respect  to  your  instructress,"  re- 
turned Miss  Fisk,  reddening. 

"Do  you  mean  that  it  is  convenient,  because  of 
being  so  near  this  house,  Miss  Fisk?  "  asked  Eddie 
respectfully. 

"Yes,  convenient  and  safe;  on  which  account 
both  Mrs.  Travilla  and  Mrs.  Ross  stipulated  that 
our  picnic  for  to-day  should  be  held  there." 

"Well,  let's  go  right  away,"  said  Gertrude, 
jumping  up  and  pushing  back  her  chair. 

"Immediately,  Miss  Ross,"  corrected  the  gov- 
erness.     "  Right  away  is  exceedingly  inelegant." 

"How  tiresome!"  muttered  Gertrude.  Then 
aloud  to  Violet,  as  the  governess  left  the  room,  "  I 
say,  Vi,  does  your  mamma  reprove  you  for  saying 
right  away?  " 

"I  don't  remember  that  I  ever  said  it. 
Mamma " 

"  Said  it  ?  "  interrupted  Gertrude,  with  a  twinkle 
of  fun  in  her  eye,  "  why  don't  you  say  'used  the 
expression'?  my  dear,"  mimicking  Miss  Fisk's 
tones,  "  you  should  never  condescend  to  make  use 
of  a  sixpenny  word,  when  a  fifty  cent  one  would 


44  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

express  your  sentiments  fully  as  correctly,  or  per- 
chance even  more  so." 

Vi  could  not  help  joining  in  the  laugh  with 
which  Gertrude  concluded,  though  feeling  rather 
ashamed  of  herself,  as  she  seemed  to  see  the  grave 
look  of  disapproval  mamma  would  have  given  her 
if  present. 

"Oh,  Gertrude,"  she  said,  "we  oughtn't 
to " 

"Yes,  we  ought,"  returned  Gertrude,  as  they 
ran  out  of  the  room  together;  "mamma  always 
laughs  when  I  take  off  old  finikin  Fisk.  She 
wouldn't  have  me  talk  like  her  for  the  world. 
Would  your  mamma  wish  you  to  ?  " 

"  No,  but  she  never  says " 

"Right  away?  No,  of  course  not;  she  says 
'  immediately  '  or  'at  once '  or  something  that 
sounds  nice.  Well,  so  will  I  when  I'm  grown 
up." 

Miss  Fisk  was  on  the  porch  taking  an  observa- 
tion of  the  weather,  the  children  crowding  about 
her,  and  clamoring  to  be  allowed  to  set  out  im- 
mediately for  the  grove.  The  day  was  fine,  and 
there  seemed  every  indication  that  it  would  con- 
tinue so. 

"Yes,"  said  the  governess,  "you  may  request 
your  maids  to  see  that  you  are  suitably  arrayed  for 
the  occasion,  and  as  promptly  as  possible,  and  we 
will  repair  to  the  appointed  place  ;  taking  our  de- 
parture hence  in  precisely  thirty  minutes." 


ELSIE' S  CHILD  REX.  45 

The  children  were  ready  and  impatiently  wait- 
ing, when  Miss  Fisk  came  down  from  her  room, 
"suitably  arrayed  for  the  occasion." 

They  set  out  at  once,  the  whole  party  in  high 
good  humor,  the  boys  carrying  their  balls,  marbles, 
and  fishing  rods,  the  girls  their  dolls  and  a  set  of 
toy  dishes,  to  play  tea-party  with.  Miss  Fisk  had 
a  bit  of  fancy  work  and  a  book,  and  two  servants 
brought  up  the  rear  with  camp-chairs,  an  afghan 
and  rugs  to  make  a  couch  for  the  little  ones  when 
they  should  grow  sleepy.  Luncheon  was  in  course 
of  preparation  by  the  cook,  and  was  to  be  sent  by 
the  time  the  young  picnickers  were  likely  to  feel  an 
appetite  for  it. 

The  boys  took  the  lead,  bounding  on  some  dis- 
tance ahead,  with  Ranger  in  their  midst.  They 
were  in  no  mood  just  then  for  sitting  still,  so  de- 
positing their  fishing  tackle  in  the  schoolhouse, 
went  roving  about  in  search  of  more  active  amuse- 
ment than  that  of  catching  trout. 

"  That'll  be  good  fun  when  we  want  to  sit  down 
and  rest,"  said  Eddie. 

"  Oh,  I  see  a  bird's  nest,  and  I'm  going  to  have 
it  !  "  exclaimed  Archie,  beginning  to  climb  a  tree. 

"Oh  don't,"  cried  Harold,  "mamma  says  it's 
very  cruel  and  wicked  to  rob  the  poor  little 
birds." 

"Pooh!  you're  a  baby!"  answered  Archie, 
half  breathlessly,  pulling  himself  up  higher  and 
yet   higher.      "There,   I'll    have   it  in  a  minute," 


46  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

reaching  out  his  hand  to  lay  hold  of  the  branch 
that  held  the  nest. 

Ranger  was  barking  loudly  at  the  foot  of  the 
tree,  Harry  and  Eddie  were  calling  to  Archie  to 
"Take  care!"  and  he  hardly  knew  how  it  was 
himself,  but  he  missed  the  branch,  lost  his  hold  of 
the  tree,  and  fell,  lighting  upon  Ranger's  back. 

The  boy  gave  a  scream,  the  dog  a  yelp,  and  the 
rest  of  the  party  came  running  to  ask  what  was  the 
matter. 

Archie  picked  himself  up,  looking  quite  crest- 
fallen, and  the  fright  of  the  others  was  turned  to 
laughter,  as  they  discovered  that  he  had  received 
no  damage  beyond  a  slight  scratch  on  his  hand 
and  a  rent  in  his  jacket. 

Miss  Fisk,  making  him  promise  not  to  repeat  the 
experiment,  went  back  to  her  seat  under  the  trees 
and  the  book  she  had  brought  from  the  house  for 
her  own  enjoyment. 

The  morning  passed  without  any  further  incident 
worth  recording,  the  children  amusing  themselves 
with  various  quiet  plays,  the  girls  keeping  house, 
each  under  her  own  particular  tree,  and  exchang- 
ing visits ;  the  boys  catching  trout,  which  they  sent 
to  the  house  to  be  cooked  for  dinner.  They 
wanted  to  make  a  fire  and  cook  them  themselves, 
but  Miss  Fisk  wisely  forbade  it. 

She  would  have  had  the  meal  served  in  the 
schoolhouse,  but  yielded  to  the  clamor  for  an  out- 
door repast.     Several  desks  were  brought  out  into 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  47 

the  shade  of  the  trees,  a  dainty  table-cloth  spread 
over  them  and  the  party  presently  sat  down  to  a 
delightful  collation,  to  which  they  brought  keen 
appetites. 

Ranger  had  disappeared.  They  missed  him  as 
they  were  leaving  the  table. 

"  Where  can  he  have  gone?  "  Harry  was  saying, 
when  Vi  cried  out,  "  Oh  yonder  he  is  !  and  he  has 
a  dear  little  bird  in  his  mouth  !  Oh  you  wicked, 
cruel  dog  !  "  And  running  to  him  she  tried  to 
take  it  from  him. 

He  dropped  it  and  snapped  at  her,  Eddie  jerk- 
ing her  back  just  in  time  to  save  her  from  his  teeth, 
while  Archie,  who  was  very  fond  of  Vi,  struck  the 
dog  a  blow  with  a  stick,  crying  furiously,  "You 
just  do  that  again,  sir,  and  I'll  kill  you  !  " 

Ranger  then  flew  at  him,  but  the  boy  avoided 
the  attack  by  jumping  nimbly  behind  a  tree. 

The  other  children  were  screaming  with  fright, 
and  a  catastrophe  appeared  imminent,  but  one  of 
the  maids  came  running  with  some  tempting 
morsels  for  Ranger  which  appeased  his  wrath,  and 
the  danger  was  averted. 

Ranger's  attention  being  absorbed  with  the 
satisfying  of  his  appetite,  the  children  now  looked 
about  for  the  bird.  It  was  not  quite  dead,  but 
soon  breathed  its  last  in  Vi's  lap  with  her  tears 
dropping  fast  upon  it. 

"Oh  don't,  Vi  !  "  said  Archie,  "  I  can't  bear  to 
see  you   feel  so  sorry.     And  the  bird  isn't  being 


48  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

hurt  now,  you  know  ;  'twon't  ever  be  hurt  any 
more;  will  it,  Ed  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Harry,  "we  might  as  well  let  the 
dog  have  it." 

"No,  no!"  said  Eddie,  "it  would  just  en- 
courage him  to  catch  another." 

"So  it  would,"  said  Gertrude,  "let's  make  a 
grand  funeral  and  bury  it  at  the  foot  of  a  tree. 
If  we  only  knew  now  which  one  it  used  to  live 
on." 

The  motion  was  about  to  be  carried  by  acclama- 
tion, but  Vi  entered  a  decided  protest.  "  No,  no, 
I  want  to  keep  it." 

"But  you  can't,  Vi,"  remonstrated  Eddie, 
"dead  things  have  to  be  buried,  you  know." 

"Not  the  skin  and  feathers,  Eddie;  they  do 
stuff  them  sometimes  and  I'll  ask  mamma  to  let 
me  have  this  one  done." 

"Oh  what's  the  use?"  expostulated  Gertrude ; 
"it's  only  a  common  robin." 

"  But  I  love  it;  the  poor  dear  little  thing  i  and 
mamma  will  let  me,  I  know  she  will,"  returned  Vi, 
wiping  away  her  tears  as  though  comforted  by  the 
very  thought. 

The  other  children  wandered  off  to  their  play 
leaving  her  sitting  where  she  was,  on  a  fallen  tree, 
fondling  the  bird ;  but  Archie  soon  came  back  and 
seated  himself  by  her  side. 

"Such  a  pity;  isn't  it?"  he  said,  "  I  hate  that 
Ranger,  don't  you,  Vi  ?  " 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  49 

"  No-o ;  I  hope  not,  Archie,"  she  answered 
doubtfully  :  "  folks  kill  birds  to  eat  them  and  may 
be  'tain't  any  worse  for  dogs,"  she  added,  with  a 
fresh  burst  of  tears.  "  Poor  little  birdie ;  and 
may  be  there  are  some  young  ones  in  the  nest  that 
have  no  mamma  now  to  feed  or  care  for  them." 

"  That  old  Ranger  !  and  he  snapped  at  you  too. 
Here  he  comes  again.  I'll  kill  him  !  "  cried  the 
boy,  with  vehemence.  "  Oh  no,  I  know  what  I'll 
do  !  Here  Ranger  !  here  Ranger!  "  and  starting 
up  he  rushed  away  in  a  direction  to  take  him 
farther  from  the  schoolhouse  and  the  rest  of  his 
party. 

He  had  spied  in  the  distance  a  farmer's  boy,  a 
lad  of  fourteen,  with  whom  he  had  some  slight  ac- 
quaintance.     "  Hallo,  Jared  Bates  !  "  he  shouted. 

"  Well,  what's  wantin'  ?  "  and  Jared  stood  still, 
drawing  the  lash  of  his  carter's  whip  slowly  be- 
tween his  fingers.  "  Hurry  up  now,  for  I've  got 
to  go  back  to  my  team.  Whose  dog's  that?"  as 
Ranger  came  running  up  and  saluted  him  with  a 
sharp,  "  Bow,  wow,  wow  !  " 

"Ours,"  said  Archie,  "and  I'm  mad  at  him! 
'cause  he  killed  a  bird  and  tried  to  bite  Vi  Travilla, 
when  she  went  to  take  it  from  him." 

"Like  enough,"  returned  Jared,  grinning.  "But 
what  about  it?  " 

"  I  thought  may  be  you'd  like  to  have  him." 

"So  I  would,  what'll  you  sell  him  for?" 

"  Ten  cents." 


50  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"I  hain't  got  but  two." 

"  Haven't  you,  Jared?  truly,  now  ?  " 

"No,  nary  red,  'cept  them,"  and  diving  into 
his  pantaloons'  pocket,  Jared  produced  a  handful 
of  odds  and  ends — a  broken  knife,  a  plug  of  to- 
bacco, some  rusty  nails,  a  bit  of  twine,  etc., — 
from  which  he  picked  out  two  nickels.  There, 
them's  um,  and  they's  all  I  got  in  the  world,"  he 
said  gravely,  passing  them  over  to  Archie. 

"Well,  it's  very  cheap,"  observed  the  latter, 
pocketing  the  cash,  "but  you  can  have  him. 
Good-bye,"  and  away  he  ran  back  to  the  spot 
where  he  had  left  Vi. 

"You're  a  green  'un  !  "  laughed  Jared,  looking 
after  him ;  then  whistling  to  the  dog  to  follow,  he 
went  on  his  way. 


CHAPTER  SEVENTH. 

"  But  this  I  say,  he  which  soweth  sparingly  shall  reap 
also  sparingly ;  and  he  which  soweth  bountifully  shall  reap 
also  bountifully." 

— 2  Cor.  ix.  6. 

All  the  children,  Gertrude  excepted,  were  gath- 
ered on  the  front  porch,  Vi  with  the  dead  bird  in 
her  hands,  when  the  carriage  drove  up  with  the 
returning  travelers. 

There  was  a  glad  chorus  of  welcome,  and  most 
of  the  young  faces  were  bright  and  happy.  Elsie's 
troop  had  nothing  but  smiles,  caresses  and  loving 
words  for  her,  and  tender,  anxious  inquiries  about 
"Sister  Elsie;  if  the  tooth  were  out?"  "if  the 
dentist  hurt  her  much?" 

"  It  was  hard  to  bear,"  she  said,  "  but  the  doctor 
was  very  kind,  and  tried  not  to  hurt  her.  And, 
oh,  mamma  had  made  her  such  a  lovely  present, 
for  being  brave  and  willing  to  have  her  tooth  out." 
And  she  took  a  beautiful  little  gold  watch  and 
chain  from  her  bosom,  and  held  them  up  to  their 
admiring  gaze. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad,  so  glad  !  Dear  mamma,  how 
good  of  you  !  "  cried  Yi,  without  a  touch  of  envy 
embracing  first  her  sister,  and  then  her  mother. 

Eddie  and  the  two  younger  ones  seemed  equally 
51 


52  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

pleased,  and  "sister  Elsie"  allowed  each  in  turn 
to  closely  inspect  her  treasure. 

In  the  meantime,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ross  had  been 
busy  bestowing  caresses  and  small  gifts  upon  their 
children,  who  received  them  with  noisy  glee  min- 
gled with  some  reproaches  because  they  had  been 
left  at  home. 

"  Come,  come,  no  complaints,"  said  their  father ; 
"  I  think  you  have  fared  well ; — a  holiday,  a  picnic, 
and  these  pretty  presents.     Where's  Gertrude?  " 

"Sure  enough,  where  is  she?"  asked  Lucy, 
looking  round  from  one  to  another. 

"She's  mad  because  you  did  not  take  her 
along,"  remarked  Harry,  "she  says  you  didn't 
keep  your  promise. ' ' 

"Dear  me,  I'd  forgotten  all  about  it!"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Ross.  "I  should  have  taken  her 
though,  but  there  wasn't  time  to  get  her  up  and 
dressed." 

"Gertrude!  Gertrude!"  called  Mr.  Ross,  in 
tones  of  authority,  "  Gertrude,  come  here  and 
show  yourself." 

At  that  the  child  came  slowly  out  from  the  hall 
— whence  she  had  been  watching  the  scene  through 
the  crack  behind  the  door — looking  red  and  angry. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  asked  her  father, 
with  some  displeasure  in  his  tones. 

"Nothing,  I'm  not  crying." 

"Nor  pouting  either,  I  suppose?  What's  it  all 
about?  " 


ELSIE' S  CHILDREN.  53 

"Mamma  promised  to  take  me  along  the  next 
time  she  went  to  the  city." 

•■  Perhaps  she  will  the  next  time." 

"  But  this  was  the  next  time,  because  she  prom- 
ised it  when  she  went  before  and  took  Kate. ' ' 

"Well,  such  promises  are  always  conditional; 
she  took  no  one  this  time  (but  me),  and  there  was 
a  good  reason  why." 

Gertrude  smiled  slightly,  then  laughed  outright, 
as  she  glanced  up  into  his  face,  saying,  "  I  thought 
it  was  you,  papa,  that  took  mamma." 

•'•  Oh  :  now,  you  begin  to  look  something  like 
the  little  girl  I'm  used  to  hearing  called  Gertrude 
Ross  ;  the  one  I  like  to  buy  presents  for ;  the  other 
one  that  was  here  just  a  moment  ago,  gets  nothing 
bought  with  my  money." 

"  See  here,"  said  her  mother,  and  with  a  cry  of 
delight  Gertrude  sprang  forward  and  caught  from 
her  hand  a  watch  and  chain  very  nearly  the  coun- 
terparts of  those  little  Elsie  was  displaying  to  her 
sister  and  brothers. 

"Oh,  joy,  joy!"  she  cried,  dancing  up  and 
down,  "thank  you,  mamma!  Thank  you,  papa! 
I'd  rather  have  this  than  a  dozen  visits  to  New 
York.     See,  Kate,  isn't  it  a  beauty?" 

"Yes,"  returned  her  sister  sullenly;  "but  I 
don't  see  why  you  should  have  a  watch  and  I  only 
this  ring;  you're  hardly  more  than  a  year  older 
than  I  am  and  not  a  bit  better  girl." 

"Come,    come,    don't    pout,    Kitty,"   said    her 


54  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

father,  stroking  her  hair;  "your  time  will  come. 
Harry's  and  Archie's  too,  and  even  little  Sophie's," 
he  added,  catching  the  household  pet  up  in  his 
arms,  to  give  her  a  hug  and  kiss. 

It  was  not  until  after  tea  that  Mr.  Ross  missed 
his  dog.  "  Where's  Ranger?  "  he  asked  of  one  of 
the  servants. 

"  Dade,  sir,  I  don't  know,"  she  answered.  "  Sure 
he  went  to  the  picnic  wid  the  rest  of  the  childer, 
an'  it's  meself  as  hasn't  seen  him  since." 

"Harry,"  stepping  out  on  the  porch  where  the 
children,  except  the  very  little  ones,  who  had 
already  been  sent  up  to  bed,  were  sitting  listlessly 
about,  too  weary  with  the  day's  sports  to  care  for 
anymore  active  amusement,  "  where' s  Ranger  ?  " 

"Ranger?"  cried  Harry  with  a  start,  "why 
sure  enough,  I  haven't  seen  him  since  he  came 
home  !  and  I  don't  think  he  came  with  us  either." 

"No,  he  didn't,"  said  several  young  voices. 

"  I  wonder  where  he  can  be,"  pursued  Harry. 
"Shall  I  go  and  look  for  him,  papa?  " 

Mr.  Ross  was  about  to  say  yes,  when  his  eye 
fell  upon  the  face  of  his  youngest  son  who,  he 
noticed,  looked  very  red  and  somewhat  troubled. 
"What  do  you  know  about  it,  Archie?"  he 
asked ;  "  can  you  tell  us  what  has  become  of 
Ranger  ?  ' ' 

"  He  behaved  very  bad  indeed,  papa,"  stam- 
mered the  boy;  "he  killed  a  dear  little  bird  and 
tried  to  bite  Vi,  and  me  too — and  I  sold  him." 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  55 

The  truth  was  out  and  Archie  heaved  a  sigh  of 
relief. 

"Sold  him?"  repeated  his  father  in  a  tone  of 
mingled  surprise  and  displeasure. 

' '  Yes,  sir  :  to  Jared  Bates,  for  two  cents.  Here 
they  are:  I  s'pose  they  belong  to  you,"  said  the 
little  fellow  tugging  at  his  pocket. 

"For  two  cents  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Ross  laugh- 
ing in  spite  of  himself.  "You'll  never  grow  rich, 
my  boy,  making  such  bargains  as  that.  But  see 
here."  he  added,  growing  grave  again,  "  whose  dog 
ii  ?  " 

•■  i — I  thought  it  was  ours,  papa." 

"  Ours  ?     Yours  to  play  with,  but  only  mine  to 

:   give  away.     You'll  have  to  go  to  Jared  to- 

m  ■  .  r.v,  return  his  two  cents,  and  tell  him  the  dog 

is  mine,  and  you  sold  what  did  not  belong  to  you." 

here's  my  bird  ?  "  cried  Yiolet,  reminded 

of  it  by  this  little  episode.     "  I  laid  it  down  to  look 

at    Elsie's    watch,   and   oh    it's    gone !     Mamma, 

l,  I'm  so  sorry  !  " 

"  I  am  too.  dear,  for  your  sake,"  the  mother 
said,  putting  an  arm  about  her  and  kissing  the  wet 
cheek,  for  the  tears  had  begun  to  flow  again.  "  Was 
it  the  bird  Ranger  killed  ?" 

"  Yes,  mamma,  I  was  going  to  ask  you  to  get  it 
Stuffed  for  me." 

"Some  cat  has  got  it,  no  doubt,"  said  Mr.  Ross. 
"  But  don't  cry:  it  couldn't  hurt  it,  you  know,  after 
it  was  dead." 


56  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"If  it  only  had  a  heaven  to  go  to,"  sobbed  Vi. 

"Perhaps  it  has,"  said  the  gentleman  kindly. 
"  I  really  don't  think,"  turning  to  Mrs.  Travilla, 
"that  the  Bible  says  anything  to  the  contrary;  it 
seems  to  me  to  simply  leave  the  matter  in  doubt." 

"I  know,"  she  answered  thoughtfully,  "  that  it 
is  the  generally  accepted  belief  that  there  is  no  here- 
after for  the  lower  animals ;  yet  it  has  occurred  to 
me,  too,  that  the  Bible  does  not  positively  assert  it ; 
and  some  of  the  poor  creatures  have  such  a  suffer- 
ing life  in  this  world  that  it  makes  my  heart  ache  to 
think  there  is  no  other  for  them." 

"  Papa,"  asked  Archie,  "don't  you  think  Ranger 
deserved  to  be  sold  for  killing  that  bird  and  trying 
to  bite  Vi?" 

"  That's  a  question  you  should  have  propounded 
before  selling  him,  that  and  another;  'May  I  sell 
him.'  " 

"  I  wish  you'd  let  Phelim  go  and  buy  him 
back,"  remarked  the  boy,  looking  very  uncom- 
fortable at  the  thought  of  having  to  do  the  errand 
himself. 

"No,  sir,"  returned  the  father  decidedly,  "the 
mischief  you  have  done  you  must  undo  yourself. 
Ah,  Harry,  go  and  ask  if  any  letters  came  to-day." 

"  I  asked,"  said  Gertrude.  "  There  was  just 
one ;  from  Phil,"  and  she  drew  it  from  her  pocket 
and  handed  it  to  her  father. 

"  What  does  he  say  ?  "  Mrs.  Ross  inquired  when 
he  had  glanced  over  it. 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  57 

"Not  much,  except  that  he's  to  be  here  to- 
morrow, and  wants  the  carriage  sent  to  the  depot 
for  him,"  he  answered,  handing  it  to  her. 

"Good  !  "  said  Gertrude,  with  much  satisfac- 
tion. "  We  always  have  more  fun  when  Phil's  at 
home." 

'  •  Except  when  he  picks  a  quarrel  with  you  or 
some  of  us,"  remarked  Harry. 

"For  shame,  Hal!  "  said  his  mother.  "The 
quarrels,  if  there  are  any,  are  as  likely  to  be  begun 
by  you,  as  any  one  else." 

Lucy  was  proud  and  fond  of  her  first-born,  and 
always  ready  to  shield  him  from  blame.  He  was 
in  his  mother's  eyes  as  the  king,  who  could  do  no 
wrong,  but  to  others  a  spoiled  child,  a  wilful,  head- 
strong, domineering  boy. 

Yet  he  was  not  without  his  good  qualities,  brave, 
frank,  affectionate,  and  generous  to  a  fault,  many 
hearts  besides  those  of  his  doting  parents  were 
drawn  to  him  in  sincere  affection  ;  Elsie's  among 
the  rest ;  yet  she  dreaded  exposing  her  little  sons 
to  Phil's  influence;  Edward  especially  as  nearer 
Phil's  age,  and  because,  though  much  improved 
by  good  training,  his  natural  disposition  was 
very  similar.  But  she  had  not  seen  Philip  for 
two  years,  and  hoped  he  might  have  changed  for 
the  better. 

It  seemed  so  at  first.  He  was  a  bright,  hand- 
some youth,  and  came  home  in  fine  spirits,  and 
with  a  manner  full  of  affection  for  parents,  brothers 


58  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

and  sisters.  She  did  not  wonder  at  Lucy's  fond 
pride  in  her  eldest  son. 

"Phil,"  said  his  mother,  following  him  into  his 
room  that  night,  "  you  have  made  a  good  im- 
pression, and  I'm  very  anxious  you  shouldn't  spoil 
it ;  so  do  try  to  keep  on  your  good  behavior  while 
the  Travillas  stay." 

"I  intend  to,  Mrs.  Ross,"  he  returned,  with  a 
laugh.  "  Elsie,  little  Elsie's  been  my  little  lady 
love  since  the  first  time  my  eyes  lighted  on  her, 
and  I  know  that  if  I  want  to  secure  the  prize,  I've 
got  to  keep  on  the  right  side  of  her  father  and 
mother." 

Lucy  laughed.  "  You  are  beginning  early, 
Phil,"  she  said.  "  I  advise  you  not  to  say  a  word 
of  your  hopes  in  their  hearing,  for  ten  years  to 
come." 

"Trust  me  for  managing  the  thing,  ma,"  he  re- 
turned, nodding  his  head  wisely.  "But  do  you 
s'pose  now,  they'd  be  so  outrageously  unreason- 
able as  to  expect  a  fellow  to  be  quite  perfect  ?  ' ' 
he  queried,  striking  a  match  and  lighting  a 
cigar. ' 

"  Phil !  Phil !  throw  that  away  !  "  she  said,  try- 
ing to  snatch  it  from  him. 

He  sprang  nimbly  aside,  "  No,  you  don't,  ma ! 
Why  shouldn't  I  smoke  as  well  as  my  father? 
Ministers  smoke  too,  and  lots  of  good  people." 

"  But  you're  too  young  to  begin  yet,  and  I  know 
your  Aunt  Elsie  would  be  horrified.     She'd  think 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  59 

you  a  very  fast  boy  and  hurry  away  with  her  chil- 
dren, lest  they  should  be  contaminated  by  your 
bad  example." 

"Well,"  he  answered,  puffing  away,  "I'll  not 
let  her  or  them  know  I  ever  indulge.  I'll  only 
smoke  up  here  and  at  night,  and  the  smell  will  be- 
all  off  my  breath  by  morning." 

"I  wish  you'd  give  it  up  entirely.  Where  did 
you  ever  learn  it  ?  " 

"Comes  natural;  guess  I  inherited  the  taste. 
But  nearly  all  the  fellows  at  school  do  it — on  the 
sly." 

"  Ah,  Phil,  I'm  afraid  you're  a  sad  fellow  1  " 
Lucy  said,  shaking  her  head  reprovingly;  but  he 
could  see  the  smile  shining  in  her  fond,  admiring. 
eyes,  and  lurking  about  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

"  Oh,  come  now,  ma,  I'm  not  so  bad  ;  not  the 
worst  fellow  in  the  world.  I  wouldn't  do  a  mean 
thing." 

"  No,  of  course  not,"  she  said,  kissing  him  good- 
night, and  leaving  him  with  a  parting,  "  Don't  for- 
get to  say  your  prayers,  Phil." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ross  were  not  Christian  parents ; 
careful  and  solicitous  about  the  temporal  welfare  of 
their  children,  they  gave  little  thought  to  their 
spiritual  needs.  Lucy  taught  them,  in  their  in- 
fancy, to  say  their  prayers  before  lying  down  to 
rest  at  night,  as  they  grew  older  sent  them  to  Sun- 
day-school, took  them  to  church  on  pleasant  Sab- 
bath mornings,  when  it  was  convenient,  and  she 


^o  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

felt  inclined  to  go  herself,  and  provided  each  one 
with  a  copy  of  the  Bible. 

This  was  about  the  extent  of  the  religious  train- 
ing they  received  ;  and  it  was  strongly  counteracted 
by  the  worldly  atmosphere  of  their  home,  the 
worldly  example  set  them  by  their  parents,  and  the 
worldly  maxims  and  precepts  constantly  instilled 
into  their  young  minds. 

From  these,  they  learned  to  look  upon  the 
riches,  honors  and  pleasures  of  earth  as  the  things 
to  be  most  earnestly  coveted,  most  worthy  of  un- 
tiring efforts  to  secure. 

Life  at  the  Crags  was  a  strange  puzzle  to  the  Ion 
children  :  no  blessing  asked  at  the  table,  no  gath- 
ering of  the  family  morning  or  evening  for  prayer 
or  praise  or  the  reading  of  God's  word. 

"Mamma,  what  does  it  mean?"  they  asked; 
"'  why  doesn't  Uncle  Ross  do  as  papa  does  ?  " 

Elsie  scarce  knew  how  to  answer  them.  "  Don't 
let  us  talk  about  it,  dears,"  she  said  :  "  but  what- 
ever others  may  do,  let  us  serve  God  ourselves  and 
seek  his  favor  above  everything  else ;  for  '  in  his 
favor  is  life  '  and  his  loving  kindness  is  better  than 
life." 


CHAPTER  EIGHTH. 

"  To  each  his  sufferings  :  all  are  men 
Condemn'd  alike  to  groan  ; 
The  tender  for  another's  pain, 
The  unfeeling  for  his  own." 

—Gray. 

The  weather  was  delightful :  because  of  Phil's 
return  the  children  were  excused  altogether  from 
lessons  and  nearly  every  day  was  taken  up  with 
picnics,  riding,  driving  and  boating  excursions  up 
and  down  the  river. 

They  were  never  allowed  to  go  alone  on  the 
water  or  behind  any  horse  but  "  Old  Nan,"  an  old 
slow  moving  creature  that  Phil  said  "  could  not  be 
persuaded  or  forced  out  of  a  quiet  even  trot  that 
was  little  better  than  a  walk,  for  five  consecutive 
minutes." 

The  mothers  were  generally  of  the  party; — Lily 
continuing  so  much  better  that  Elsie  could  leave 
her,  without  anxiety,  in  the  faithful  care  of  her  old 
mammy — and  always  one  or  two  trusty  servants 
were  taken  along. 

One  day  Philip  got  permission  to  take  old  Nan 
and  the  phaeton  and  drive  out  with  the  two  older 
girls,  Gertrude  and  Elsie. 
61 


62  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

They  were  gone  several  hours  and  on  their  re- 
turn, while  still  some  miles  from  home  were  over- 
taken by  a  heavy  shower,  from  which  they  took 
refuge  in  a  small  log-house  standing  a  few  yards 
back  from  the  road. 

It  was  a  rude  structure  built  in  a  wild  spot 
among  the  rocks  and  trees,  and  evidently  the  abode 
of  pinching  poverty;  but  everything  was  clean 
and  neat,  and  the  occupants,  an  elderly  woman  re- 
clining in  a  high-backed  wooden  rocking-chair 
with  her  feet  propped  up  on  a  rude  bench,  and  a 
young  girl  who  sat  sewing  by  a  window  overlook- 
ing the  road,  wore  an  air  of  refinement,  and  spoke 
English  more  correctly  and  with  a  purer  accent 
than  sometimes  is  heard  in  the  abodes  of  wealth 
and  fashion. 

The  door  stood  wide  open  and  the  moment 
Philip  drew  rein,  the  girl  at  the  window  called  to 
them  to  come  in  out  of  the  wet,  and  directed  the 
lad  to  shelter  his  horse  and  phaeton  underneath  a 
shed  at  the  side  of  the  house. 

Gertrude  ran  lightly  in  with  a  laugh  and  jest, 
Elsie  following  close  at  her  heels. 

The  girl  rose  and  setting  out  two  unpainted 
wooden  chairs,  invited  them  to  be  seated,  remark- 
ing as  she  resumed  her  work,  that  the  shower  had 
come  up  very  suddenly,  but  she  hoped  they  were 
not  wet. 

"  Not  enough  to  hurt  us,"  said  Gertrude. 

"Hardly  at  all,  thank   you,"   said   Elsie.      "I 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  63 

hope  our  mammas  will  not  be  alarmed  about  us, 
Gerty." 

"I  don't  think  they  need  be  so  long  as  there's 
no  thunder  and  lightning,"  answered  Gertrude. 
"Ah,  see  how  it  is  pouring  over  yonder  on  the 
mountain,  Elsie  !  " 

The  pale  face  of  the  woman  in  the  rocking-chair, 
evidently  an  invalid,  had  grown  still  paler  and  her 
features  worked  with  emotion. 

"  Child  !  child  !  "  she  cried,  fixing  her  wild  eyes 
on  Elsie,  "  who — who  are  you?  " 

"They're  the  young  ladies  from  the  Crags, 
mother,"  said  the  girl  soothingly. 

"I  know  that,  Sally,"  she  answered  peevishly, 
"  but  one's  a  visitor,  and  the  other  one  called  her 
Elsie,  she's  just  the  age  and  very  image  of — child, 
what  is  your  family  name?  " 

"  Travilla,  madam,"  the  little  girl  replied,  with 
a  look  of  surprise. 

"Oh,  you're  her  daughter;  yes,  of  course  I 
might  have  known  it.  And  so  she  married  him, 
her  father's  friend  and  so  many  years  older." 

The  words  were  spoken  as  if  to  herself  and  she 
finished  with  a  deep  drawn  sigh. 

This  woman  had  loved  Travilla — all  unsuspected 
by  him,  for  he  was  not  a  conceited  man — and  there 
had  been  a  time  when  she  would  have  almost 
given  her  hopes  of  heaven  for  a  return  of  her  affec- 
tion. 

"Is  it  my  mother  you  mean?  did  you  know  her 


64  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

when  she  was  a  little  girl  ?  "  asked  Elsie,  rising  and 
drawing  near  the  woman's  chair. 

"Yes;  if  she  was  Elsie  Dinsmore,  and  lived  at 
Roselands — how  many  years  ago?  let  me  see;  it 
was  a  good  many ;  long  before  I  was  married  to 
John  Gibson." 

"That  was  mamma's  name  and  that  was  where 
she  lived ;  with  her  grandpa,  while  her  papa  was 
away  in  Europe  so  many  years,"  returned  the  little 
Elsie;  then  asked  with  eager  interest,  "But  how 
did  you  happen  to  know  her?  did  you  live  near 
Roselands?  " 

"  I  lived  there ;  but  I  was  a  person  of  no  conse- 
quence ;  only  a  poor  governess,"  remarked  the 
woman  in  a  bitter  tone ;  an  expression  of  angry  dis- 
content settling  down  upon  her  features. 

"Are  you  Miss  Day?"  asked  Elsie,  retreating 
a '  step  or  two  with  a  look  as  if  she  had  seen  a  ser- 
pent. 

Her  mother  had  seldom  mentioned  Miss  Day  to 
her,  but  from  her  Aunts  Adelaide  and  Lora  she 
had  heard  of  her  many  acts  of  cruelty  and  injus- 
tice to  the  little  motherless  girl  committed  to  her 
care. 

"I  was  Miss  Day;  I'm  Mrs.  Gibson  now.  I 
was  a  little  hard  on  your  mother  sometimes,  as  I 
see  you've  been  told  ;  but  I'd  a  great  deal  to  bear ; 
for  they  were  a  proud,  haughty  family — those 
Dinsmores.  I  was  not  treated  as  one  of  them- 
selves, but  as  a  sort  of  upper  servant,  though  a  lady 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  65 

by  birth,  breeding  and  education,"  the  woman  re- 
marked, her  tone  growing  more  and  more  bitter  as 
she  proceeded. 

"But  was  it  right?  was  it  just  and  generous  to 
vent  your  anger  upon  a  poor  little  innocent  girl 
who  had  no  mother  and  no  father  there  to  defend 
her?"  asked  the  child,  her  soft  eyes  filling  with 
tears. 

"  Well  maybe  not ;  but  it's  the  way  people  gen- 
erally do.  Your  mother  was  a  good  little  thing, 
provokingly  good  sometimes ;  pretty  too,  and  heir- 
ess, they  said,  to  an  immense  fortune.  Is  she  rich 
still  ?  or  did  she  lose  it  all  by  the  war  ?  " 

"She  did  not  lose  it  all,  I  know,"  said  Elsie^ 
"  but  how  rich  she  is  I  do  not  know ;  mamma  and 
papa  seldom  talk  of  any  but  the  true  riches." 

"  Just  like  her,  for  all  the  world  !  "  muttered  the 
woman.  Then  aloud  and  sneeringly,  "  Pray  what 
do  you  mean  by  the  true  riches  ?  " 

"Those  which  can  never  be  taken  from  us; 
treasure  laid  up  in  heaven  where  neither  moth  nor 
rust  doth  corrupt  and  thieves  break  not  through  to 
steal." 

The  sweet  child  voice  ceased  and  silence  reigned 
in  the  room  for  a  moment,  while  the  splashing 
of  the  rain  upon  the  roof  could  be  distinctly  heard. 

Mrs.  Gibson  was  the  first  to  speak  again.  "  Well 
I'd  like  to  have  that  kind,  but  I'd  like  wonderfully 
well  to  try  the  other  a  while  first." 

Elsie  looked  at  the  thin,  sallow  face  with  its  hoi- 


66  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

low  cheeks  and  sunken  eyes,  and  wished  mamma 
were  there  to  talk  of  Jesus  to  this  poor  woman, 
who  surely  had  but  little  time  to  prepare  for  another 
world. 

"Is  your  mother  at  the  Crags?"  asked  Mrs. 
Gibson  turning  to  her  again. 

Elsie  answered  in  the  affirmative,  adding  that 
they  had  been  there  for  some  time  and  would  prob- 
ably remain  a  week  or  two  longer. 

"Do  you  think  she  would  be  willing  to  come 
here  to  see  me?"  was  the  next  question,  almost 
eagerly  put. 

"Mamma  is  very  kind  and  I  am  sure  she  will 
come  if  you  wish  to  see  her,"  answered  the 
child. 

"Then  tell  her  I  do;  tell  her  I,  her  old  gover- 
ness, am  sick  and  poor  and  in  great  trouble." 

Tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks  and  for  a  moment 
her  eyes  rested  upon  her  daughter's  face  with  an 
expression  of  keen  anguish.  "  She's  going  blind," 
she  whispered  in  Elsie's  ear,  drawing  the  child 
toward  her,  and  nodding  in  the  direction  of  Sally, 
stitching  away  at  the  window. 

"Blind  !  oh  how  dreadful !  "  exclaimed  the  lit- 
tle girl  in  low  moved  tones,  the  tears  springing  to 
her  eyes.  "  I  wish  she  could  go  to  Doctor  Thom- 
son." 

" Doctor  Thomson  !  who  is  he?  " 

"  An  oculist :  he  lives  in  Philadelphia.  A  friend 
of  mamma's  had  something  growing  over  her  eyes 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  67 

so  that  she  was  nearly  blind,  and  he  cut  it  off  and 
she  can  see  now  as  well  as  anybody." 

"I  don't  think  that  is  the  trouble  with  Sally's; 
though  of  course  I  can't  tell.  But  she's  always  had 
poor  sight,  and  now  that  she  has  to  support  the 
family  with  her  needle,  her  eyes  are  nearly  worn 
out." 

Sally  had  been  for  several  minutes  making  vain 
attempts  to  thread  a  needle. 

Elsie  sprang  to  her  side  with  a  kindly,  eager, 
"  Let  me  do  it,  won't  you  ?  " 

It  was  done  in  a  trice  and  the  girl  thanked  her 
with  lips  and  eyes. 

"  It  often  takes  me  full  five  or  ten  minutes,"  she 
said,  "  and  sometimes  I  have  to  get  mother  to  do 
it  for  me." 

"  What  a  pity  !  it  must  be  a  great  hindrance  to 
your  work." 

"Yes,  indeed,  and  my  eyes  ache  so  that  I  can 
seldom  sew  or  read  for  more  than  an  hour  or  two 
at  a  time.  Ah,  I'm  afraid  I'm  going  to  lose  my 
sight  altogether." 

The  tone  was  inexpressibly  mournful,  and  Elsie's 
eyes  filled  again. 

"Don't  fret  about  it,"  she  said,  "I  think — I 
hope  you  can  be  cured." 

The  rain  had  nearly  ceased,  and  Philip,  saying 
the  worst  was  over,  and  they  were  in  danger  of 
being  late  at  dinner,  hurried  the  girls  into  the 
phaeton. 


68  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"What  was  that  woman  whispering  to  you?" 
asked  Gertrude,  as  soon  as  they  were  fairly 
off. 

Elsie  looked  uncomfortable.  "  It  was  something 
I  was  to  tell  mamma,"  she  replied. 

"  But  what  is  it  ?  " 

"I'm  afraid  she  wanted  to  keep  it  a  secret 
from  you,  Gerty,  or  she  would  have  spoken  out 
loud." 

"I  think  you're  very  mean  and  disobliging," 
retorted  Gertrude,  beginning  to  pout. 

"No,  she  isn't,"  said  Philip  pompously,  "she's 
honorable,  and  one  of  the  few  females  who  can 
keep  a  secret.  But  I  overheard  it,  Elsie,  and  feel 
pretty  sure  that  the  reason  she  whispered  it,  was  to 
keep  the  poor  girl  from  hearing.  It's  very  natural 
she  shouldn't  want  her  to  know  she's  afraid  her 
sight's  leaving  her." 

"Oh,  yes;  I  suppose  that  was  it!"  returned 
Elsie.  "  But  you  were  very  wise  to  think  of  it, 
Phil." 

"Don't  flatter  him,"  said  Gertrude;  "he  thinks. 
a  great  deal  too  much  of  himself,  already." 

Dinner  was  just  ready  when  they  reached  home, 
and  their  mammas  were  on  the  porch  looking  for 
them. 

"  So  there  you  are  at  last !  what  detained  you 
so  long  ?  ' '  said  Mrs.  Ross. 

"  Went  further  than  we  intended  ;  and  then  the 
rain,  you  know,"  said  Philip. 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  69 

"And,  oh,  we  had  an  adventure!"  cried  the 
girls,  and  hastened  to  tell  it. 

Mrs.  Travilla  had  not  forgotten  her  old  gover- 
ness, and  though  no  pleasant  recollection  of  her 
lingered  in  her  memory,  neither  was  there  any  dis- 
like or  revengeful  feeling  there.  She  heard  of  her 
sorrows  with  commiseration  and  rejoiced  in  the 
ability  to  alleviate  them. 

"That  Mrs.  Gibson!"  exclaimed  Lucy,  "I've 
seen  her  many  a  time  at  the  door  or  window,  in 
driving  past,  and  have  often  thought  there  was  some- 
thing familiar  in  her  face,  but  never  dreamed  who 
she  was.  That  hateful  Miss  Day  !  as  I  used  to  call 
her;  Elsie,  I  wouldn't  do  a  thing  for  her,  if  I  were 
you.     Why  she  treated  you  with  absolute  cruelty." 

"She  was  sometimes  unjust  and  unkind,"  said 
Mrs.  Travilla,  smiling  at  her  friend's  vehemence, 
"  but  probably  my  sensitiveness,  timidity  and 
stupidity,  were  often  very  trying." 

"  No  such  thing  ! — if  you  will  excuse  me  for  con- 
tradicting you — everybody  that  knew  you  then, 
would  testify  that  you  were  the  sweetest,  dearest, 
most  patient,  industrious  little  thing  that  ever  was 
made." 

Elsie  laughed  and  shook  her  head,  "Ah,  Lucy, 
you  always  flattered  me  ;  never  were  jealous  even 
when  I  was  held  up  to  you  as  a  pattern  an  evidence 
that  yours  was  a  remarkably  sweet  disposition. 
Now,  tell  me,  please,  if  you  know  anything  about 
these  Gibsons?  " 


jo  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"  Not  much;  they  came  to  that  hut  years  ago, 
evidently  very  poor,  and  quite  as  evidently — so 
report  says — having  seen  better  days.  The  hus- 
band and  father  drank  deeply,  and  the  wife  earned 
a  scanty  support  for  the  family  by  sewing  and 
knitting ;  that  is  about  all  I  know  of  them,  except 
that  several  of  their  children  died  of  scarlet  fever 
within  a  few  days  of  each  other,  soon  after  they 
came  to  the  neighborhood,  and  that  a  year  ago  last 
winter,  the  man,  coming  home  very  drunk,  fell 
into  a  snow-drift,  and  next  day  was  found  frozen 
to  death.  I  was  told  at  that  time  they  had  only 
two  children — a  son  who  was  following  in  his 
father's  footsteps,  and  this  daughter." 

"Poor  woman!"  sighed  Elsie,  "she  is  sorely 
tried  and  afflicted.     I  must  go  to  her  at  once." 

"Do,  mamma,  and  get  a  doctor  for  her,"  said 
little  Elsie  ;   "  she  looked  so  sick  and  miserable." 

Mrs.  Ross  offered  her  carriage,  and  the  shower 
having  cooled  the  air,  Elsie  went,  shortly  after  the 
conclusion  of  the  meal. 


CHAPTER  NINTH. 

"  I'll  not  chide  thee  ; 
Let  shame  come  when  it  will,  I  do  not  call  it." 

— Shakespeare. 

"  I  NEVER  saw  such  a  likeness  in  my  life  !  "  said 
Mrs.  Gibson  looking  after  the  phaeton  as  it  drove 
away;  "she's  the  very  image  of  her  mother.  I 
could  just  have  believed  it  was  the  very  little  Elsie 
Dinsmore  I  used  to  teach  more  than  twenty  years 
ago." 

"She's  lovely!"  exclaimed  Sally  with  enthu- 
siasm. "  Mother,  did  you  see  what  a  pretty  watch 
she  had  ?  " 

"Yes,"  gloomily;  "some  folks  seem  to  have 
nothing  but  prosperity,  and  others  nothing  but 
poverty  and  losses  and  crosses.  They're  as  rich 
as  Croesus  and  we  have  hardly  enough  to  keep  us 
from  starvii 

"  Better  times  may  come,"  said  Sally,  trying  to 
speak  hopefully,  "  Tom  may  reform  and  go  to 
work.      I  do  think,  mother,  if  you'd  try  to " 

"  Hush  !  I'm  a  great  deal  better  to  him  than  he 
deserves." 

It  was  some  moments  before  Sally  spoke  again, 
then  it  was  only  to  ask,  "Will  you  have  your 
dinner  now,  mother?" 

7' 


72  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"  No ;  there's  nothing  in  the  house  but  bread 
and  potatoes,  and  I  couldn't  swallow  either.  Dear 
me  what  a  table  they  used  to  set  at  Roselands  ! 
enough  to  tempt  the  appetite  of  an  epicure." 

"I  must  rest  my  eyes  a  little.  I  can't  see  any 
longer,"  said  the  girl,  laying  down  her  work  and 
going  to  the  door. 

"It's  just  dreadful,"  sighed  her  mother,  "but 
don't  get  out  of  heart ;  these  people  will  help  us 
and  it  is  possible  some  skilful  oculist  may  under- 
stand your  case  and  be  able  to  help  you." 

The  girl's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  distant 
mountain-tops  where,  through  a  rift  in  the  clouds 
the  sun  shone  suddenly  out  for  a  moment.  "'I 
will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills  whence  cometh 
my  help,'  "  she  murmured  softly  to  herself.  Then 
from  a  full  heart  went  up  a  strong  cry,  "O  God, 
my  Father,  save  me,  I  beseech  thee,  from  this  bit- 
ter trial  that  I  so  dread  !  Nevertheless  not  as  I 
will,  but  as  thou  wilt.  Oh,  help  me  to  be  content 
with  whatsoever  thou  shalt  send  !  " 

"Sally,  you're  standing  there  a  long  time."  It 
was  the  mother's  querulous  voice  again. 

The  girl  turned  toward  her,  answering  in  a  pa- 
tient tone.  "Yes,  mother,  it  rests  my  eyes  to 
look  at  the  sky  and  the  mountains  or  any  distant 
object." 

"You'd  better  get  yourself  something  to  eat. 
It  must  be  six  or  eight  hours  at  least  since  breakfast." 

An  hour  later  Sally,  again  busied  with  her  s*«"» 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  73 

ing,  by  the  window,  lifted  her  head  at  the  sound  of 
wheels  and  exclaimed  in  a  low  tone,  "  There  is  the 
same  carriage  again  !  It  has  stopped  and  a  lady 
is  getting  out  of  it." 

But  turning  her  head  she  perceived  that  her 
mother,  who  was  now  lying  on  the  bed,  had  fallen 
asleep.  Dropping  her  work,  she  stepped  quickly 
to  the  door  in  time  to  prevent  a  rap. 

She  recognized  the  lady  at  once  from  her  like- 
ness to  her  namesake  daughter,  and  holding  out 
her  hand  with  a  joyful  admiring  smile  said,  "  Mrs. 
Travilla,  is  it  not  ?  Thank  you  for  coming,  I  am 
so  glad,  and  mother  will  be  so  delighted  to  see 
you  ;  but  she  is  sleeping  just  now." 

She  had  spoken  softly,  and  Elsie  answered  in 
the  same  subdued  tone,  as  she  took  the  offered 
hand,  then  stepped  in  and  sat  down  in  a  chair  the 
girl  hastened  to  set  for  her,  "That  is  well;  we 
must  not  wake  her." 

A  long  talk  followed  in  which  Elsie  by  her  ready 
tact  and  sweet  sympathy,  free  from  the  slightest 
approach  to  patronage,  drew  from  the  girl  the 
story  of  their  sorrows,  privations  and  fears  for  the 
future. 

Her  mother  had  been  gradually  failing  for  some 
time,  though  she  really  did  not  know  what  was  the 
nature  of  the  disease.  For  a  while  they  had  con- 
trived by  their  united  efforts  to  make  the  two  ends 
meet,  but  now  that  all  depended  upon  her,  with 
her  poor  sight,  it  was  no  longer  possible. 


74  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"  How  are  your  eyes  affected  ?  "  asked  Elsie. 

"The  sight  is  dim;  I  can  scarcely  see  to  set 
my  stitches  :  I  have  great  difficulty  in  threading  a 
needle :  I  always  had.  I  could  never  read  fine 
print,  never  read  through  a  long  sentence  without 
shutting  my  eyes  for  an  instant  or  looking  off  the 
book.  It  has  always  been  an  effort  to  see,  and 
now  J  am  forced  to  use  my  eyes  so  constantly  they 
grow  worse  and  pain  me  very  much.  At  times  a 
mist  comes  over  them  so  that  I  cannot  see  at  all 
until  I  rest  them  a  little.  Indeed  I  often  seem  to 
be  going  blind  and  I'm  afraid  I  shall,"  she  added, 
with  a  tremble  in  her  tones,  a  tear  rolling  down  her 
cheek.     But  she  hastily  wiped  it  away. 

"  My  poor  child,  I  hope  not,"  Elsie  said,  laying 
a  hand  softly  on  hers  ;  "  there  have  been  wonder- 
ful cures  of  diseased  eyes.  You  must  go  to  an 
oculist." 

"  The  expense  would  be  far  beyond  our 
means." 

"You  must  let  me  assume  that.  No,  don't 
shake  your  head.  I  have  abundant  means.  The 
Lord  has  given  me  far  more  of  this  world's  goods 
than  I  ought  to  use  for  myself  or  my  family  and 
I  know  it  is  because  he  would  have  me  be  his 
almoner. ' ' 

The  girl  wept  for  joy  and  thankfulness. 

"  Oh,  how  kind  you  are  I  "  she  cried.  "I  be- 
lieve the  Lord  sent  you  and  that  my  sight  will  be 
spared  ;  for  I  have  prayed  so  that  it  might ; — that 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  75 

he  would  send  me  help  somehow.  But  mother, 
how  can  she  do  without  me  ?  " 

"  I  will  see  that  she  has  medical  advice,  nursing, 
everything  she  needs." 

Sally  tried  to  speak  her  thanks  but  tears  and 
sobs  came  instead. 

The  sound  woke  Mrs.  Gibson.  "Elsie  Dins- 
wos?  1  "  cfci  cried  in  feeble  but  excited  tones,  with 
airhcdiry  raising  herself  to  a  sitting  posture.  "I 
should  have  known  you  anywhere." 

'•I  cannot  say  the  same;  you  are  much 
changed,"  Elsie  said,  going  to  the  bedside  and 
taking  the  thin  feverish  hand  in  hers. 

"  Yes,  I've  grown  an  old  woman,  while  you  are 
fresh  and  young  ;  and  no  wonder,  for  your  life  has 
been  all  prosperity  ;  mine  nothing  but  trouble  and 
trial  from  beginning  to  end." 

"  O,  mother  dear,  we  have  had  a  great  many 
mercies,"  said  Sally  ;  "  and  your  life  is  not  ended. 
I  hope  your  good  times  are  yet  to  come." 

"  Well,  maybe  so,  if  Mrs.  Travilla  can  help  us 
to  the  medical  aid  we  need,  and  put  us  in  the  way 
of  earning  a  good  living  afterward." 

"  I  shall  do  my  best  for  you  in  both  respects," 
Elsie  said  kindly,  accepting  a  chair  Sally  set  for 
her  near  the  bed. 

"  I  knew  you  would  ;  you  were  always  generous," 
remarked  her  ci-devant  governess  ;  "  prompt  too 
in  bestowing  your  favors.  But  it  is  easy  to  be  gen- 
erous with  a  large  and  well-filled  purse." 


76  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"Very  true,"  Elsie  answered  with  a  smile. 
"  And  now  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  Ah  I  had  for- 
gotten. Mrs.  Ross,  hearing  you  were  ill,  and 
knowing  that  to  the  sick  something  sent  by  a 
neighbor  was  often  more  relished  than  home  food, 
however  nice,  put  a  basket  of  dainties  into  the 
phaeton." 

Stepping  to  the  door,  she  signed  to  the  servant, 
who  immediately  brought  in  a  hamper  of  provi- 
sions such  as  had  not  been  seen  under  that  roof  for 
many  months.  Mrs.  Gibson's  eyes  glistened  at 
sight  of  a  basket  of  fine  fresh  fruit  and  a  bowl  of 
delicious  custard. 

"I  will  go  now  and  call  again  to-morrow," 
Elsie  said,  as  the  man  carried  away  the  empty 
hamper. 

Grasping  Sally's  hand  cordially  in  parting,  she 
left  something  in  it. 

"  Mother  !  "  cried  the  girl,  breathlessly,  hold- 
ing it  up  to  view,  "  it's  a  check  for  a  hundred 
dollars  !  " 

" 'Tisn't  possible!  let  me  see!"  cried  Mrs. 
Gibson  laying  down  the  spoon  with  which  she  was 
eating  raspberries  and  custard,  and  holding  out  her 
hand  for  the  check. 

"  Yes,  so  it  is  !  what  a  godsend  !  I  didn't  think 
even  she  was  so  generous.  But  dear  me,  she's 
rolling  in  wealth,  and  it's  no  more  to  her,  or  even 
as  much  as  ten  cents  would  be  to  you  or  me." 

"  Oh,  mother  !  "  said  Sally,  reproachfully,  "we 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  77 

have  no  claim  on  her  ;  and  if  she  has  a  good 
deal  of  money,  she  must  have  hundreds  of  calls 
for  it." 

"  No  claim  on  her?  why  people  take  care  of  old 
servants,  and  a  governess  ought  to  be  considered 
of  a  good  deal  more  account." 

"  Tom  mustn't  know  about  this,  mother." 

"  No,  indeed  !  the  greater  part  of  it  would  soon 
go  for  liquor  or  at  the  gambling  table,  if  he  did. 
Here  give  it  to  me,  and  I'll  hide  it  under  my  pil- 
low." 

The  saucer  of  berries  was  scarcely  disposed  of, 
before  a  second  visitor  arrived. 

Dr.  Morton  was  considered  the  most  skilful 
practitioner  in  the  neighborhood.  Mrs.  Travilla 
meeting  him  on  the  way  in  returning  to  the  Crags, 
had  begged  him  to  take  charge  of  Mrs.  Gibson's 
case,  and  also  to  look  at  Sally's  eyes;  engaging  to 
settle  his  bill  herself. 

On  his  way  home  he  called  at  the  Crags  with 
his  report.  The  mother,  he  said,  was  very  much 
out  of  health,  but  not  incurable ;  he  had  promised 
to  send  her  some  medicine.  A  month  or  two  at 
the  seashore  would  do  her  good  ;  perhaps  restore 
her  entirely." 

"  Then  she  must  go,"  said  Elsie,  "  I  will  at  once 
see  what  arrangements  can  be  made.  But  now, 
what  of  the  girl,  doctor?  " 

"She  seems  in  pretty  good  health." 

"  But  her  eves  ?  " 


78  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"The  nerve  is  affected;  there  is  no  help  for 
her." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  ?  " 

"Quite.  I  have  paid  a  good  deal  of  attention 
to  the  eye,  and  I  assure  you  a  case  like  hers  is  in- 
curable." 

"Then  you  decline  to  attempt  to  do  anything 
for  her  ?" 

"I  do,  Mrs.  Travilla,  because  there  is  absolutely 
nothing  to  be  done." 

"Poor  girl,  how  sorry  I  am  for  her  !  blindness 
must  be  so  terrible,"  Lucy  remarked  to  her  friend 
after  the  doctor  had  gone. 

"Yes,"  Elsie  answered  thoughtfully,  "but  I  do 
not  give  up  hope  for  her  yet." 

"  Dr.  Morton  is  considered  very  skilful." 

"  Still  he  may  be  mistaken,  and  I  shall  not 
rest  till  I  have  made  every  effort  to  save  her 
sight." 

Little  Elsie  and  her  sister  had  already  become 
deeply  interested  in  poor  Sally,  and  were  laying 
plans  to  help  her. 

"What  can  we  do,  Elsie?"  queried  Vi,  in  an 
under  tone,  drawing  her  sister  aside. 

"She'll  want  clothes;  she  had  on  a  very  old 
faded  calico  dress." 

"  And  not  a  bow  or  pin ;  just  an  old  linen  collar 
around  her  neck,"  remarked  Gertrude,  joining 
them;  "and  her  dress  was  ever  so  old-fashioned 
and  patched  besides." 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  79 

"  Let's  put  our  pocket  money  together,  and  buy 
her  a  new  dress,"  proposed  Vi. 

"  And  make  it  for  her,"  added  Elsie ;  "it  hurts 
her  eyes  to  sew,  and  you  know  Dinah  could  fit  it. 
Mamma  had  her  taught  the  trade,  and  says  she  fits 
and  sews  very  nicely." 

"Oh,  what's  the  use  of  giving  our  money?" 
exclaimed  Gertrude,  impatiently.  "  We  want  it 
ourselves,  and  your  mamma  has  such  loads  and 
loads  of  money;  hasn't  she,  Eddie?"  turning  to 
him,  as  he  stood  near. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  answered  ;  "  she  never  told 
us  she  had ;  she  never  talks  much  about  money, 
except  to  tell  us  it  all  belongs  to  God,  who  only 
lends  it  to  us." 

"And  that  we  must  give  it  to  the  poor  and 
needy,"  said  Vi. 

"Because  'it  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  re- 
ceive,' "  added  Elsie. 

"  Well,  I  know  she  has,"  persisted  Gertrude,  "for 
my  mamma  often  says  so,  and  I'm  sure  she  knows." 

"But  even  if  she  has,  mamma's  money  is  not 
ours,  and  it's  a  duty  and  a  very  great  pleasure  to 
give  of  our  own." 

"Every  one  to  their  taste,  I  haven't  a  bit  more 
money  than  I  want  myself,"  said  Gertrude,  walk- 
ing away  with  her  chin  in  the  air. 

"Gerty,"  said  Elsie,  running  after  her,  "don't 
be  vexed  ;  we  weren't  meaning  to  ask  you  for  any- 
thing;  but  only  talking  about  our  own  duty." 


8o  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.     , 

"Oh,  I  can  take  a  hint  as  well  as  other  folks," 
said  Gertrude,  tossing  her  head. 

"  What's  it  all  about?  "  asked  Kate,  coming  up 
to  them ;  but  they  paid  no  heed  to  her,  and  she 
went  to  Vi  for  the  desired  information. 

"  Why,  I'll  help,  of  course  I  will,"  she  said ;  "I 
guess  I've  got  some  money,  I'll  look  after  tea; 
there's  the  bell  now." 

Elsie  seized  an  opportunity  to  petition  her  mother 
for  a  longer  talk  than  usual  in  her  dressing-room 
that  evening,  and  the  most  of  it  was  taken  up  in 
the  discussion  and  arranging  of  plans  for  helping 
Mrs.  Gibson  and  her  daughter. 

"  What  an  unconscionable  time  you've  been  up- 
stairs, Elsie,"  Philip  remarked  in  a  bantering 
tone,  coming  to  her  side  as  she  and  her  mother  re- 
turned to  the  drawing-room.  "I've  been  dying  to 
speak  to  you,  as  the  girls  say." 

"All  girls  don't  talk  so,  Phil." 

"You  don't,  I  know.  Would  you  like  a  gallop 
before  breakfast  to-morrow  morning  ?  ' ' 

"Yes,  indeed  !  "  she  answered,  her  eyes  spark- 
ling, "it's  what  I'm  used  to  at  home.  Papa  rides 
with  us  almost  every  morning." 

"  Will  I  do  for  an  escort  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  if  mamma  consents.  Gert  will  go 
too,  won't  she?  " 

"  No,  she  prefers  her  morning  nap." 

Philip  was  a  manly  boy,  the  neighborhood  a  safe 
one,  and  the  pony  Elsie  would  ride,  well-broken 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  81 

and  not  too  spirited,  so  mamma's  consent  was 
readily  given,  with  the  proviso  that  they  should  not 
go  before  sunrise,  or  choose  a  lonely  road. 

"By  the  way,"  she  added,  "I  should  like  you 
to  do  an  errand  for  me  at  Mrs.  Gibson's." 

As  Sally  Gibson  was  sweeping  the  doorstep  early 
the  next  morning,  a  couple  of  ponies  dashed  up  to 
the  gate,  in  whose  riders  she  instantly  recognized 
Elsie  Travilla  and  Philip  Ross. 

"  Hallo  !  "  shouted  the  latter,  "  this  young  lady 
has  something  for  you." 

"  Good-morning,"  Elsie  said,  reaching  out  a  lit- 
tle gloved  hand,  as  the  girl  drew  near,  "mamma 
bade  me  bring  you  this  note,  and  ask  how  your 
mother  is  to-day." 

"  A  little  better,  thank  you  ;  it  has  done  her  a 
world  of  good  to — to  have  her  mind  so  relieved, 
and  the  doctor's  medicine  seems  to  have  helped 
her  too.  How  very,  very  kind  Mrs.  Travilla  is," 
she  added,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  "  and  Mrs.  Ross. 
Won't  you  come  in  ?  " 

"  Not  this  morning,  thank  you,"  and  away  they 
galloped.  Sally  looking  after  them  with  admiring 
eyes,  and  a  murmured  exclamation,  "  How  pretty 
and  sweet  she  is  !  " 

It  was  not  an  envious  sigh  that  accompanied  the 
words,  but  born  of  mingled  emotions, — the  half- 
formed  thought,  "  Shall  I  ever  know  such  pleas- 
ures. Alas,  they  are  not  for  me!"  quickly  suc- 
ceeded by  another, — "  Ah,  that  sweet  child  cannot 


82  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

live  to  maturity,  and  be  always  as  happy  and  free 
from  care,  as  now." 

Her  mother's  shrill  voice  recalled  her  to  herself, 
"  Why  do  you  stand  there  ?  What's  that  they  gave 
you  ? ' ' 

"A  note,  mother.     It's  directed  to  me." 

"  Then  make  haste  and  read  it." 

"  Shall  I  not  give  you  your  breakfast  first?  " 

"  No,  no  !   do  as  I  bid  you." 

So  the  girl  read  the  missive  aloud  without  delay. 

It  was  from  Mrs.  Travilla,  and  stated  that  she 
had  already  written  to  engage  a  room  for  Mrs.  Gib- 
son in  a  cottage  in  a  quiet  little  seaside  town  ;  a 
place  recommended  by  Doctor  Morton  as  very  suit- 
able ;  and  that  she  would  secure  a  competent  nurse 
to  go  with  her. 

"  Why  can't  she  send  you,  too,  instead  of  hiring 
a  stranger  to  go  with  me?  "  here  interrupted  Mrs. 
Gibson,  angrily. 

"Wait,  mother,"  said  Sally  in  quivering  tones, 
tears  of  joy  and  gratitude  filling  her  eyes. 

She  dashed  them  away  and  read  on. 

"I  have  another  plan  for  you.  Doctor  Morton 
told  you  his  opinion, — that  your  case  was  hopeless. 
But  do  not  despair ;  mistakes  are  often  made  even 
by  the  most  skilful  men.  A  friend  of  mine,  whose 
trouble  was  very  similar  to  yours — consulted  a  num- 
ber of  excellent  oculists  all  of  whom  told  her  the 
nerve  of  her  eye  was  affected  and  there  was  no 
help  for  it,  she  would  certainly  go  blind  ;  then  as  a 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  83 

last  hope  she  went  to  Doctor  Thomson  of  Phila- 
delphia, who  succeeded  in  giving  her  entire  relief. 
If  you  are  willing,  I  will  send  you  to  him.  And 
now  the  first  thing  is  to  provide  your  mother  and 
yourself  each  with  a  suitable  outfit.  Come  up  to 
the  Crags  as  early  this  morning  as  you  can,  and  we 
will  make  arrangements." 


CHAPTER  TENTH. 

"When  we  see  the  flower  seeds  wafted, 
From  the  nurturing  mother  tree, 
Tell  we  can,  wherever  planted, 
What  the  harvesting  will  be ; 
Never  from  the  blasting  thistle, 
Was  there  gathered  golden  grain, 
Thus  the  seal  the  child  receiveth, 
From  its  mother  will  remain." 

— Mrs.  Hale. 

For  once  Mrs.  Gibson  had  the  grace  to  feel  a 
passing  emotion  of  gratitude  to  this  kind  benefac- 
tor, and  shame  that  she  herself  had  been  so  ready 
with  fault-finding  instead  of  thanks. 

As  for  Sally,  she  was  completely  overcome,  and 
dropping  into  a  chair,  hid  her  face  and  cried 
heartily. 

"Come,  don't  be  a  fool,"  her  mother  said  at 
last ;  "  there's  too  much  to  be  done  to  waste  time 
in  crying,  and  besides  you'll  hurt  your  eyes." 

Sally  rose  hastily,  removed  the  traces  of  her 
tears,  and  began  setting  the  table  for  their  morning 
meal. 

"  How  soon  are  you  going?  "  her  mother  asked 
at  its  conclusion. 

"Just  as  soon  as  I  can  get  the  things  cleared 


ELSIE' S  CHILDREN.  85 

away  and  the  dishes  washed ;  if  you  think  you  can 
spare  me." 

"Of  course  I  can.  I  feel  well  enough  this 
morning  to  help  myself  to  anything  I'm  likely  to 
want." 

There  was  still  half  an  hour  to  spare  before 
breakfast  when,  after  a  round  of  five  or  six  miles 
on  their  ponies,  Philip  and  Elsie  reached  the 
Crags. 

-•  What  shall  you  do  with  yours?  "  asked  Philip, 
remarking  upon  that  fact. 

"  Pv.ead,"  she  answered,  looking  back  at  him 
with  a  smile  as  she  tripped  lightly  up  the  stairs. 

Dinah  was  in  waiting  to  smooth  her  hair  and 
help  her  change  the  pretty  riding  hat  and  habit  for 
a  dress  better  suited  to  the  house ;  then  Elsie,  left 
alone,  seated  herself  by  a  window  with  her  Bible 
in  her  hand. 

For  a  moment  her  eyes  rested  upon  the  blue  dis- 
tant mountains,  softly  outlined  against  the  deeper 
blue  of  the  sky,  watched  the  cloud  shadows  float- 
ing over  the  nearer  hills  and  valleys  here  richly 
wooded,  there  covered  with  fields  of  waving  grain 
her  ear  the  while  drinking  in  with  delight  many  a 
sweet  rural  sound,  the  songs  of  birds,  the  distant 
lowing  of  cattle,  and  bleating  of  sheep — her  heart 
swelling  with  ardent  love  and  thankfulness  to  him 
who  had  given  her  so  much  to  enjoy. 

Dinah  had  left  the  door  open,  that  the  fresh  air 
might   course  freely   through   the   room,  and  Ger- 


86  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

trude  coming,  some  minutes  later,  in  search  of  her 
friend,  stood  watching  Elsie  for  a  little  unperceived. 

"Dear  me!"  she  exclaimed  at  length,  "how 
many  times  a  day  do  you  pore  over  that  book?  " 

Elsie  looked  up  with  a  smile  as  sweet  as  the 
morning,  "I  am  allowed  to  read  it  as  often  as  I 
please." 

"Allowed?  not  compelled  ?  not  ordered?" 

"  No,  only  I  must  have  a  text  ready  for  mamma 
every  morning." 

"  Getting  one  ready  for  to-morrow?  " 

"  No,  just  reading.  I  had  time  for  only  a  verse 
or  two  before  my  ride." 

"Well,  that  would  be  plenty  for  me.  I  can 
read  it,  too,  as  often  as  I  like,  but  a  chapter  or  two 
on  Sunday,  generally  does  me  for  all  the  week. 
There's  the  bell ;   come  let's  go  down." 

Vi  met  them  at  the  door  of  the  breakfast-room. 
"Oh,  Elsie,  did  you  have  a  pleasant  ride?  Is 
Sally  Gibson  coming  soon?  " 

"I  don't  know;  mamma  said  I  need  not  wait 
for  an  answer." 

There  was  time  for  no  more,  and  Vi  must  put  a 
restraint  upon  herself,  repressing  excitement  and 
curiosity  for  the  present,  as  mamma  expected  her 
children  to  be  very  quiet  and  unobtrusive  at  table 
when  away  from  home. 

Vi  was  delighted  when  just  as  they  were  leaving 
the  table,  a  servant  announced  that  a  young  person 
who  called  herself  Miss  Gibson,  was  asking  for  Miss 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  87 

Travilla ;  for  Vi  never  liked  waiting,  and  was  al- 
ways eager  to  carry  out  immediately  any  plan  tha 
had  been  set  on  foot. 

Mrs.  Gibson  was  not  troubled  with  any  delicacy 
of  feeling  about  asking  for  what  she  wanted,  and 
had  made  out  a  list  of  things  to  be  provided  for 
herself  and  Sally,  which  the  girl  was  ashamed  to 
show ;  so  extravagant  seemed  its  demands. 

When  urged  by  her  benefactress,  she  mentioned 
a  few  of  the  most  necessary  articles,  modestly  add- 
ing that  the  generous  gift  Mrs.  Travilla  had  already 
bestowed,  ought  to  be  sufficient  to  supply  all  else 
that  might  be  required. 

Elsie,  seating  herself  at  her  writing  desk  and 
taking  out  pen,  ink  and  paper,  looked  smilingly 
into  the  eager  faces  of  her  two  little  girls. 

"  What  do  you  think  about  it,  dears?  " 

"Oh,  the}-  must  have  more  things;  a  good 
many  more,  and  we  want  to  help  pay  for  them 
with  01 

"You  sec,  Miss  Sally,  they  will  be  sadly  disap- 
pointed ii"  you  refu-e  to  accept  their  gifts,"  Elsie 
said.  "  Now  I'm  going  to  make  out  a  list  and  you 
must  all  help  inc.  lest  something  should  be  forgot- 
ten. Mrs.  Ross  has  kindly  offered  us  the  use  of 
her  carriage,  and  we  will  drive  to  the  nearest  town 
and  see  what  we  can  find  there,  the  rest  we  will 
order  from  New  York." 

The  list  was  made  out  amid  much  innocent  jest- 
ing and  merry  laughter  of  both  mother  and  chil- 


88  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

dren, — Sally  a  deeply  interested  and  delighted 
spectator  of  their  pleasing  intercourse — the  mother 
so  sweet,  gentle  and  affectionate,  the  children  so 
respectful  and  loving  to  her,  so  kind  and  consider- 
ate to  each  other. 

In  fact,  the  girl  was  so  occupied  in  watching 
them,  that  she  was  not  aware  till  Mrs.  Travilla 
read  it  over  aloud,  that  this  new  list  was  longer 
and  more  extravagant  than  the  one  she  had  sup- 
pressed. 

"Oh,  it  is  too  much,  Mrs.  Travilla  !  "  she  cried, 
the  tears  starting  to  her  eyes. 

"My  dear  child,"  returned  Elsie,  playfully, 
"  I'm  a  wilful  woman  and  will  have  my  own  way. 
Come,  the  carriage  is  in  waiting  and  we  must  go." 

The  shopping  expedition  was  quite  a  frolic  for 
the  children,  and  a  great  treat  to  poor,  overworked 
Sally.  "She  looks  so  shabby;  I'd  be  ashamed  to 
go  with  her  to  the  stores  or  anywhere,  or  to  have 
her  ride  in  the  carriage  with  me,"  Gertrude  had 
said  to  Vi  as  the  little  girls  were  having  their  hats 
put  on  ;  but  Vi  answered  indignantly,  "  She's  clean 
and  tidy,  and  she  isn't  vulgar  or  rude,  and  I  do 
believe  she's  good ;  and  mamma  says  dress  and 
riches  don't  make  the  person." 

And  that  seemed  to  be  the  feeling  of  all ;  Elsie, 
too,  had  purposely  dressed  herself  and  her  children 
as  plainly  as  possible ;  so  that  Sally,  though  at  first 
painfully  conscious  of  the  deficiencies  in  her  attire, 
soon  forgot  all  about  them,  and  gave  herself  up  to 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  89 

the  thorough  enjoyment  of  the  pleasures  provided 
for  her. 

She  felt  that  it  would  be  very  ungrateful  did  she 
not  share  the  hearty  rejoicing  of  the  children  over 
'  •  her  pretty  things  ' '  as  they  eagerly  selected  and 
paid  for  them  with  their  own  pocket  money,  seem- 
ing fully  to  realize  the  truth  of  the  Master's  declara- 
tion, "It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive." 

Vi  would  have  had  the  making  of  the  new  dresses 
begun  at  once,  wanting  Sally  to  return  with  them 
to  the  Crags,  and  let  Dinah  fit  her  immediately, 
but  was  overruled  by  her  mamma. 

•■  No,  my  dear,  Sally  must  go  home  to  her  sick 
mother  now,  and  Dinah  shall  go  to  them  after 
dinner. ' ' 

"But  mamma,  I  want  to  begin  my  part.  You 
know  you  said  I  could  hem  nicely,  and  might  do 
some  on  the  ruffles  or  something." 

"Yes,  daughter,  and  so  you  shall,  but  must  rest 
awhile  first." 

Violet  had  often  to  be  held  back  in  starting  upon 
some  new  enterprise,  and  afterward  encouraged  or 
compelled  to  persevere,  while  Elsie  was  more  de- 
liberate at  first,  more  steadfast  in  carrying  out  what 
she  had  once  undertaken.  Each  had  what  the  other 
lacked,  both  were  very  winsome  and  lovable,  and 
they  were  extremely  fond  of  one  another  ;  scarcely 
less  so  of  their  brothers  and  the  darling  baby  sister. 

"When  may  I  begin,  mamma?"  asked  Vi, 
somewhat  impatiently. 


go  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"After  breakfast  to-morrow  morning  you  may 
spend  an  hour  at  your  needle." 

"Only  an  hour,  mamma?  It  would  take  all 
summer  at  that  rate." 

"Ah,  what  a  doleful  countenance,  daughter 
mine  !  "  Elsie  said  laughingly,  as  she  bent  down 
and  kissed  the  rosy  cheek.  "  You  must  remember 
that  my  two  little  girls  are  not  to  carry  the  heavy 
end  of  this,  and  the  sewing  will  be  done  in  good 
season  without  overworking  them.  I  could  not 
permit  that ;  I  must  see  to  it  that  they  have  plenty 
of  time  for  rest  and  for  healthful  play.  I  appoint 
you  one  hour  a  day,  and  shall  allow  you  to  spend 
one  more,  if  you  wish,  but  that  must  be  all." 

Violet  had  been  trained  to  cheerful  acquiescence 
in  the  decisions  of  her  parents,  and  now  put  it  in 
practice,  yet  wished  very  much  that  mamma  would 
let  her  work  all  day  for  Sally,  till  her  outfit  was 
ready;  she  was  sure  she  should  not  tire  of  k; 
but  she  soon  learned  anew  the  lessons  she  had 
learned  a  hundred  times  before — that  mamma 
knew  best. 

The  first  day  she  would  have  been  willing  to  sew 
a  little  longer  after  the  second  hour's  task  was 
done ;  the  next,  two  hours  were  fully  sufficient  to 
satisfy  her  appetite  for  work :  on  the  third,  it  was 
a  weariness  before  the  end  of  the  first  hour ;  on  the 
fourth,  she  would  have  been  glad  to  beg  off  entirely, 
but  her  mother  said  firmly,  "  No,  dear ;  one  hour's 
work  is  not  too  much  for  you,  and  you  know  I  al- 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  91 

lowed  you  to  undertake  it  only  on  condition  that 
you  would  persevere  to  the  end." 

"  Yes,  mamma,  but  I  am  very  tired,  and  I  think 
I'll  never  undertake  anything  again,"  and  with  a 
little  sigh  the  child  seated  herself  and  began  her 
task. 

Mamma  smiled  sympathizingly,  softly  smoothed 
the  golden  curls,  and  said  in  her  own  gentle  voice, 
"  'Let  us  not  be  weary  in  well-doing'  !  Do  you 
remember  the  rest  of  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mamma,  '  for  in  due  season  we  shall  reap, 
if  we  faint  not.'  And  you  told  us  to  faint  was  to 
get  tired  and  stop.  But  mamma,  what  shall  I  reap 
by  keeping  on  with  this  ?  " 

'•  A  much  needed  lesson  in  perseverance,  for  one 
thing,  I  hope  my  little  daughter,  and  for  another 
the  promise  given  in  the  forty-first  Psalm,  '  Blessed 
is  he  that  considereth  the  poor ;  the  Lord  will  de- 
liver him  in  time  of  trouble.  The  Lord  will  pre- 
serve him,  and  keep  him  alive  ;  and  he  shall  be 
blessed  upon  the  earth  ;  and  thou  wilt  not  deliver 
him  unto  the  will  of  his  enemies.  The  Lord  will 
strengthen  him  upon  the  bed  of  languishing  :  thou 
wilt  make  all  his  bed  in  his  sickness.' 

"  How  would  you  like  to  hear  a  story  while  you 
sit  here  sewing  by  my  side?  " 

"Oh,  ever  so  much,  mamma!  A  story!  a 
story!"  And  all  the  little  flock  clustered  about 
mamma's  chair,  for  they  dearly  loved  her  stories. 

This  was  an  old  favorite,  but  the  narrator  added 


gi  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

some  new  characters  and  new  scenes,  spinning  it 
out,  yet  keeping  up  the  interest,  till  it  and  the  hour 
came  to  an  end  very  nearly  together. 

Then  the  children,  finding  that  was  to  be  all  for 
the  present,  scattered  to  their  play. 

Mrs.  Ross  had  come  in  a  few  minutes  before, 
and  signing  to  her  friend  to  proceed,  had  joined 
the  group  of  listeners. 

' '  Dear  me,  Elsie,  how  can  you  take  so  much 
trouble  with  your  children?"  she  said.  "You 
seem  to  be  always  training  and  teaching  them  in 
the  sweetest,  gentlest  way ;  and  of  course  they're 
good  and  obedient.  I'm  sure  I  love  mine  dearly, 
but  I  could  never  have  the  patience  to  do  all  you 
do." 

"  My  dear  friend,  how  can  I  do  less,  when  so 
much  of  their  future  welfare,  for  time  and  for 
eternity,  depends  upon  my  faithfulness?" 

"Yes,"  said  Lucy  slowly,  "  but  the  mystery  to 
me  is,  how  you  can  keep  that  in  mind  all  the  time, 
and  how  you  can  contrive  always  to  do  the  right 
thing?  " 

"I  wish  I  did,  but  it  is  not  so;  I  make  many 
mistakes." 

"  I  don't  see  it.  You  do  wonderfully  well  any- 
how, and  I  want  to  know  how  you  manage  it." 

" I  devote  most  of  my  time  and  thoughts  to  it; 
I  try  to  study  the  character  of  each  child,  and 
above  all,  I  pray  a  great  deal  for  wisdom  and  for 
God's  blessing  on  my  efforts  ;   not  always  on  my 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  93 

knees,  for  it  is  a  blessed  truth,  that  we  may  lift  our 
hearts  to  him  at  any  time  and  in  any  place.  Oh, 
Lucy,"  she  exclaimed  with  tearful  earnestness, 
"if  I  can  but  train  my  children  for  God  and 
heaven,  what  a  happy  woman  shall  I  be  !  the 
longing  desire  of  my  heart  for  them  is  that  ex- 
pressed in  the  stanza  of  Watts' s  Cradle  Hymn  : 

'  Mayst  thou  live  to  know  and  fear  him, 
Trust  and  love  him  all  thy  days, 
Then  go  dwell  forever  near  him, 
See  his  face  and  sing  his  praise  ! '  " 


CHAPTER  ELEVENTH. 

"  Beware  the  bowl !  though  rich  and  bright, 
Its  rubies  flash  upon  the  sight, 
An  adder  coils  its  depths  beneath, 
Whose  lure  is  woe,  whose  sting  is  death." 

— Street. 

Mrs.  Ross  had  found  a  nurse  for  Mrs.  Gibson 
and  a  seamstress  to  help  with  the  sewing ;  a  good 
many  of  the  needed  garments  were  ordered  from 
New  York  ready  made,  and  in  a  few  days  the  in- 
valid was  comfortably  established  in  the  seaside 
cottage  recommended  by  Dr.  Morton. 

In  another  week,  Sally  found  herself  in  possession 
of  a  wardrobe  that  more  than  satisfied  her  modest 
desires.  She  called  at  the  Crags  in  her  new  travel- 
ing dress,  to  say  good-bye,  looking  very  neat  and 
lady-like ;  happy  too,  in  spite  of  anxiety  in  regard 
to  her  sight. 

Not  used  to  the  world,  timid  and  retiring,  she 
had  felt  a  good  deal  of  nervous  apprehension  about 
taking  the  journey  alone ;  but  business  called  Mr. 
Ross  to  Philadelphia,  and  he  offered  to  take  charge 
of  her  and  see  her  safe  in  the  quiet  boarding-place 
already  secured  for  her  by  Mrs.  Edward  Allison, 
to  whom  Elsie  had  written  on  her  behalf. 

Adelaide  had  never  felt  either  love  or  respect  for 
94 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  95 

the  ill-tempered  governess  of  her  younger  brothers 
and  sisters,  but  readily  undertook  to  do  a  kindness 
for  her  child. 

"Have  you  the  doctor's  address?"  Mr.  Ross 
asked,  when  taking  leave  of  the  girl  in  her  new 
quarters. 

"Yes,  sir;  Mrs.  Travilla  gave  it  to  me  on  a 
card,  and  I  have  it  safei  A  letter  of  introduction 
too,  from  Dr.  Morton.  He  says  he  is  not  per- 
sonally acquainted  with  Dr.  Thomson,  but  knows 
him  well  by  reputation,  and  if  anybody  can  help 
me  he  can." 

"  That  is  encouraging,  and  I  hope  you  will  have 
no  difficulty  in  finding  the  place.  It  is  in  the  next 
street  and  only  a  few  squares  from  here." 

Sally  thought  she  could  find  it  readily ;  Mrs. 
Travilla  had  given  her  very  careful  directions  about 
the  streets  and  numbers  in  Philadelphia ;  besides, 
she  could  inquire  if  she  were  at  a  loss. 

When  Mr.  Ross  returned  home,  he  brought 
some  one  with  him  at  sight  of  whom  the  Ion  chil- 
dren uttered  a  joyous  cry,  and  who  stepping  from 
the  carriage,  caught  their  mother  in  his  arms  and 
held  her  to  his  heart,  as  if  he  meant  never  to  let 
her  go. 

"  Papa  !  papa  !  "  cried  the  children,  "  we  did  not 
know  you  were  coming ;  mamma  did  not  tell  us. 
Mamma,  did  you  know  ?  " 

"  Yes,  marnma  had  known;  they  saw  it  in  her 
smiling  eyes;  and  now  they  knew  why  it  was  that 


96  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

she  had  watched  and  listened  so  eagerly  for  the 
coming  of  the  carriage ;  even  more  so  than  Aunt 
Lucy,  who  was  expecting  Uncle  Philip,  and  who 
was  very  fond  of  him  too.  But  then  he  had  left 
her  only  the  other  day,  and  mamma  and  papa  had 
been  parted  for  weeks." 

Mr.  Travilla  had  rented  a  furnished  cottage  at 
Cape  May  and  come  to  take  them  all  there.  The 
doctors  thought  that  would  be  best  for  Lily  now. 

The  young  folks  were  greatly  pleased,  and  ready 
to  start  at  once  j  they  had  enjoyed  their  visit  to  the 
Crags,  but  had  missed  papa  sadly,  and  now  they 
would  have  him  with  them  all  the  time,  grandpa 
and  the  whole  family  from  the  Oaks,  too ;  for  they 
were  occupying  an  adjoining  cottage.  And  the 
delicious  salt  sea  breeze,  oh,  how  pleasant  it  would 
be  ! 

Mrs.  Ross  was  sorry  to  part  with  her  guests,  had 
hoped  to  keep  her  friend  with  her  all  summer,  but 
a  good  deal  comforted  in  her  disappointment,  by 
the  knowledge  that  her  mother,  Sophie  and  her 
children  would  soon  take  their  places. 

As  for  young  Philip  he  was  greatly  vexed  and 
chagrined.  "It  is  really  too  bad  !  "  he  said  seek- 
ing little  Elsie  out,  and  taking  a  seat  by  her  side. 

She  was  on  the  porch  at  some  little  distance  from 
the  others,  and  busied  in  turning  over  the  pages  of 
a  new  book  her  papa  had  brought  her. 

"  What  is  too  bad,  Phil  ?  "  she  asked,  closing  it, 
and  giving  her  full  attention  to  him. 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  97 

"  That  you  must  be  hurried  away  so  soon.  I've 
hardly  been  at  home  two  weeks,  and  we  hadn't  seen 
each  other  before  for  two  years." 

"Well  a  fortnight  is  a  good  while.  And  you 
will  soon  have  your  cousins  here — Herbert, 
Meta " 

"  Herbert  !  "  he  interrupted  impatiently,  "who 
cares  for  him?  and  Meta,  prying,  meddling,  tell- 
tale Meta's  worse  than  nobody.  But  there  !  don't 
look  so  shocked,  as  if  I  had  said  an  awfully  wicked 
thing.  I  really  don't  hate  her  at  all,  though  she 
got  me  into  trouble  more  than  once  with  grandma 
and  Aunt  Sophie  that  winter  we  spent  at  Ashlands. 
Ah,  a  bright  thought  strikes  me  !  " 

*'  Indeed  !  may  I  have  the  benefit  of  it  ?  "  asked 
the  little  girl,  smiling  archly. 

"  That  you  may.  It  is  that  you  might  as  well 
stay  on  another  week,  or  as  long  as  you  will." 

"Thank  you,  but  you  must  remember  the  doctor 
says  we  should  go  at  once,  on  baby's  account." 

"I  know  that,  but  I  was  speaking  only  of  you 
personally.  Baby  doesn't  need  you,  and  papa 
could  take  you  to  your  father  and  mother  after  a 
while." 

"  Let  them  all  go  and  leave  me  behind  ?  Oh, 
Phil,  I  couldn't  think  of  such  a  thing  !  " 

The  Travillas  had  been  occupying  their  seaside 
cottage  for  two  weeks,  when  a  letter  came  from 
Sally  Gibson ;  the  first  she  had  written  them, 
though    she    had    been    notified    at  once   of  theii 


98  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

change  of  address,  told  that  they  would  be  glad  to 
hear  how  she  was  and  what  Ur.  Thomson  though! 
of  her  case,  and  a  cordial  invitation  given  her  to 
come  to  them  to  rest  and  recruit  as  soon  as  she  was 
ready  to  leave  her  physician. 

Elsie's  face  grew  very  bright  as  she  read. 

"  What  does  she  say?  "  asked  her  husband. 

"There  is  first  an  apology  for  not  answering 
sooner  (her  eyes  were  so  full  of  belladonna  that 
she  could  not  see  to  put  pen  to  paper,  and  she 
had  no  one  to  write  for  her),  then  a  burst  of  joy 
and  gratitude — to  God,  to  the  doctor  and  to  me, — 
'success  beyond  anything  she  had  dared  to  hope,' 
but  she  will  be  with  us  to-morrow,  and  tell  us  all 
about  it." 

"And  she  won't  be  blind,  mamma?"  queried 
Violet,  joyously. 

"No,  dear;  I  think  that  she  must  mean  that 
her  eyes  are  cured,  or  her  sight  made  good  in  some 
way." 

"  Oh,  then,  I'll  just  love  that  good  doctor  !  " 
cried  the  child,  clasping  her  hanjds  in  delight. 

The  next  day  brought  Sally,  but  they  scarcely 
recognized  her,  she  had  grown  so  plump  and 
rosy,  and  there  was  so  glad  a  light  in  the  eyes  that 
looked  curiously  at  them  through  glasses  clear  as 
crystal. 

Mrs.  Travilla  took  her  by  both  hands  and  kissed 
her. 

"  Welcome,  Sally  ;    I  am  glad  to  see  you,  but 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  99 

should  scarcely  have  known  you,  had  we  met  in  a 
crowd  ; — you  are  looking  so  well  and  happy." 

"And  so  I  am,  my  dear  kind  friend,"  the  girl 
answered  with  emotion ;  "  and  I  can  see  !  see  to 
read  fine  print  that  is  all  a  blur  to  me  without  these 
glasses  ;  and  all  the  pain  is  gone,  the  fear,  the  dis- 
tress of  body  and  mind.  Oh,  the  Lord  has  been 
good,  good  to  me !  and  the  doctor  so  kind  and  in- 
terested !  I  shall  be  grateful  to  him  and  to  you  as 
long  as  I  live  !  " 

"  Oh,  did  he  make  you  those  glasses?  what  did 
he  do  to  you?  "  asked  the  eager,  curious  children. 
"Tell  us  all  about  it,  please." 

But  mamma  said,  "No,  she  is  too  tired  now; 
she  must  go  to  her  room  and  lie  down  and  rest  till 
tea-time." 

Little  Elsie  showed  her  the  way,  saw  that  noth- 
ing was  wanting  that  could  contribute  to  her  com- 
fort, then  left  her  to  her  repose. 

It  was  needed  after  all  the  excitement  and  the 
hot  dusty  ride  in  the  cars;  but  she  came  down 
from  it  quite  fresh,  and  as  ready  to  pour  out  the 
whole  story  of  the  experiences  of  the  past  two 
weeks  as  the  children  could  desire. 

When  tea  was  over,  they  clustered  round  her  on 
the  cool  breezy  veranda  overlooking  the  restless 
murmuring  sea,  and  by  her  invitation,  questioned 
her  to  their  heart's  content. 

"  Is  he  a  nice  kind  old  man,  like  our  doctor  at 
Ion  ?  "   began  little  Harold. 


ioo  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"  Quite  as  nice  and  kind  I  should  think,  but  not 
very  old." 

"Did  he  hurt  you  very  much?"  asked  Elsie, 
who  had  great  sympathy  for  suffering,  whether 
mental  or  physical. 

"  Oh,  no,  not  at  all  !  He  said  directly  that  the 
eyes  were  not  diseased  ;  the  trouble  was  malforma- 
tion and  could  be  remedied  by  suitable  glasses; 
and  oh,  how  glad  I  was  to  hear  it  !  " 

"  I  thought  mamma  read  from  your  letter  that 
he  put  medicine  in  your  eyes." 

"Yes,  belladonna,  but  that  was  only  to  make 
them  sick,  so  that  he  could  examine  them  thor- 
oughly, and  measure  them  for  the  glasses." 

Turning  to  Mrs.  Travilla,  "  He  is  very  kind  and 
pleasant  to  every  one ;  so  far  as  I  could  see  mak- 
ing no  difference  between  rich  and  poor,  but  deeply 
interested  in  each  case  in  turn  ;  always  giving  his 
undivided  attention  to  the  one  he  has  in  hand  at 
the  moment ;  putting  his  whole  heart  and  mind 
into  the  work." 

"  Which  is  doubtless  one  great  reason  why  he  is 
so  successful,"  remarked  Mrs.  Travilla,  adding, 
"Remember  that,  my  children;  half-hearted  work 
accomplishes  little  for  this  world  or  the  next." 

"Weren't  you  afraid  the  first  time  you  went?  " 
asked  timid  little  Elsie. 

"My  heart  beat  pretty  fast,"  said  Sally  smiling. 
"  I  am  rather  bashful  you  see,  and  worse  than  that, 
I  was  afraid  the  doctor  would  say  like  the  others, 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  101 

that  it  was  the  nerve  and  I  would  have  to  go  blind, 
or  that  some  dreadful  operation  would  be  neces- 
sary ;  but  after  I  had  seen  him  and  found  out  how 
kind  and  pleasant  he  was,  and  that  I'd  nothing 
painful  or  dangerous  to  go  through,  and  might 
hope  for  good  sight  at  last,  I  didn't  mind  going  at 
all. 

"  It  was  a  little  tedious  sitting  there  in  the  outer 
office  among  strangers  with  no  one  to  speak  to,  and 
nothing  to  do  for  hours  at  a  time,  but  that  was 
nothing  compared  to  what  I  was  to  gain  by  it." 

Then  the  children  wanted  to  know  what  the 
doctor  measured  eyes  with,  and  how  he  did  it,  and 
Sally  amused  them  very  much  by  telling  how  she 
had  to  say  her  letters  every  day  and  look  at  the 
gaslight  and  tell  what  shape  it  was,  etc.,  etc. 

"The  doctor  told  me,"  she  said,  addressing 
Mrs.  Travilla,  "  that  I  would  not  like  the  glasses  at 
first,  hardly  any  one  does ;  but  I  do,  though  not  so 
well,  I  dare  say,  as  I  shall  after  a  while  when  I  get 
used  to  them." 

Mrs.  Gibson's  health  was  improving  so  that  she 
was  in  a  fair  way  to  recover  and  as  she  was  well 
taken  care  of  and  did  not  need  her  daughter,  Sally 
felt  at  liberty  to  stay  with  these  kind  friends  and 
enjoy  herself. 

She  resolved  to  put  away  care  and  anxiety  for 
the  future,  and  take  the  full  benefit  of  her  present 
advantages.  Vet  there  was  one  trouble  that  would 
intrude   itself  and   rob  her  of  half  her  enjoyment. 


102  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN, 

Tom,  her  only  and  dearly  loved  brother,  was  fast 
traveling  the  downward  road,  seeming  wholly  given 
up  to  the  dominion  of  the  love  of  strong  drink  and 
kindred  vices. 

It  was  long  since  she  had  seen  or  heard  from 
him  and  she  knew  not  where  he  was.  He  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  leaving  their  poor  home  on  the 
Hudson  without  deigning  to  give  her  or  his  mother 
any  information  as  to  whither  he  was  bound  or 
when  he  would  return  ;  sometimes  coming  back  in 
a  few  hours,  and  again  staying  away  for  days, 
weeks  or  months. 

One  day  Elsie  saw  Sally  turn  suddenly  pale 
while  glancing  over  the  morning  paper  and  there 
was  keen  distress  in  the  eyes  she  lifted  to  hers  as 
the  paper  fell  from  her  nerveless  hand. 

"Poor  child;  what  is  it?"  Elsie  asked  com- 
passionately, going  to  her  and  taking  the  cold  hand 
in  hers,  "  anything  that  I  can  relieve  or  help  you  to 
bear  ?  ' ' 

"Tom  !  "  and  Sally  burst  into  almost  hysterical 
weeping. 

He  had  been  arrested  in  Philadelphia  for  drunk- 
enness and  disorderly  conduct,  fined  and  sent  to 
prison  till  the  amount  should  be  paid. 

Elsie  did  her  best  to  comfort  the  poor  sister,  who 
was  in  an  agony  of  shame  and  grief.  "  Oh,"  she 
sobbed,  "he  is  such  a  dear  fellow  if  only  he  could 
let  drink  alone  !  but  it's  been  his  ruin,  his  ruin  ! 
He  must  feel  so  disgraced  that  all  his  self-respect  is 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  ic_ 

gone  and  he'll  never  hold  up  his  head  again  or 
have  the  heart  to  try  to  do  better." 

"Don't  despair,  poor  child!"  said  Elsie,  "he 
has  not  fallen  too  far  for  the  grace  of  God  to  re- 
claim him;  'Behold  the  Lord's  hand  is  not  short- 
ened, that  it  cannot  save;  neither  his  ear  heavy, 
that  it  cannot  hear.'  " 

"And  oh,  I  cry  day  and  night  to  him  for  my 
poor  Tom,  so  weak,  so  beset  with  temptations  !  " 
exclaimed  the  gir?,  "and  will  he  not  hear  me  at 
last?" 

"  He  will  if  you  ask  in  faith  pleading  the  merits 
of  his  Son,"  returned  her  friend  in  moved  tones. 

"  He  must  be  saved  !  "  Mr.  Travilla  said  with 
energy,  when  Elsh  repeated  to  him  this  conversa- 
tion with  Sally.  "I  shall  take  the  next  train  for 
Philadelphia  and  try  to  find  him." 

Tom  was  found,  his  fine  paid,  his  release  pro- 
cured, his  rags  exchanged  for  neat  gentlemanly 
attire,  hope  of  better  things  for  this  world  and  the 
next  set  before  him,  and  with  self-respect  and  man- 
hood partially  restored  by  all  this  and  the  kindly 
considerate,  brotherly  manner  of  his  benefactor,  he 
was  persuaded  to  go  with  the  latter  to  share  with 
Sally  for  a  few  weeks,  the  hospitality  of  that  pleas- 
ant seaside  home. 

He  seemed  scarcely  able  to  lift  his  eyes  from  the 
ground  as  Mr.  Travilla  led  him  into  the  veranda 
where  the  whole  family  were  gathered  eagerly 
awaiting   their   coining  ;    but   in  a   moment  Sally's 


104  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

arms  were  round  his  neck,  her  kisses  and  tears 
warm  on  his  cheek,  as  she  sobbed  out  in  excess  of 
joy,  "  O  Tom,  dear  Tom,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  !  " 

Then  Mrs.  Travilla's  soft  white  hand  grasped 
his  in  cordial  greeting,  and  her  low  sweet  voice 
bade  him  welcome;  and  the  children  echoed  her 
words,  apparently  with  no  other  thought  of  him 
than  that  he  was  Sally's  brother  and  it  was  perfectly 
natural  he  should  be  there  with  her. 

So  he  was  soon  at  ease  among  them  ;  but  felt 
very  humble,  kept  close  by  Sally  and  used  his  eyes 
and  ears  far  more  than  his  tongue. 

His  kind  entertainers  exerted  themselves  to  keep 
him  out  of  the  way  of  temptation  and  help  him  to 
conquer  the  thirst  for  intoxicating  drink,  Mrs. 
Travilla  giving  Sally  carte  blanche  to  go  into  the 
kitchen  and  prepare  him  a  cup  of  strong  coffee 
whenever  she  would. 

"  Sally,"  he  said  to  his  sister,  one  evening  when 
they  sat  alone  together  on  the  veranda,  "  what  a 
place  this  is  to  be  in  !  It's  like  a  little  heaven 
below;  there  is  so  much  of  peace  and  love ;  the 
moral  atmosphere  is  so  sweet  and  pure  :  I  feel  as 
though  I  had  no  business  here,  such  a  fallen  wretch 
as  I  am  !  "  he  concluded  with  a  groan,  hiding  his 
face  in  his  hands. 

"Don't,  Tom,  dear  Tom!"  she  whispered, 
putting  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  laying  her 
head  on  his  shoulder.  "  You've  given  up  that 
dreadful  habit  ?  you're  never  going  back  to  it  ?  " 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  105 

"  I  don't  want  to  !  God  knows  I  don't !  "  he 
cried  as  in  an  agony  of  fear,  "  but  that  awful  thirst — 
you  don't  know  what  it  is  !  and  I — I'm  weak  as 
water.  Oh  if  there  was  none  of  the  accursed  thing 
on  the  face  of  the  earth,  I  might  hope  for  salva- 
tion !  Sally,  I'm  afraid  of  myself,  of  the  demon 
that  is  in  me  !  " 

"  O,  Tom,  fly  to  Jesus  !  "  she  said,  clinging  to 
him.  "He  says,  'In  me  is  thine  help.'  -Fear 
not ;  I  will  help  thee,'  and  he  never  yet  turned  a 
deaf  ear  to  any  poor  sinner  that  cried  to  him  for 
help.  Cast  yourself  wholly  on  him  and  he  will 
give  you  strength ;  for  <  every  one  that  asketh, 
receiveth  ;  and  he  that  seeketh,  findeth ;  and  to 
him  that  knocketh  it  shall  be  opened.'  " 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  in  which  Sally's 
heart  was  going  up  in  earnest  prayer  for  him;  then 
Mr.  Travilla  joined  them  and  addressing  Tom  said, 
"  My  wife  and  I  have  been  talking  about  your 
future  ;  indeed  Sally's  also  ;  for  we  suppose  you 
would  like  to  keep  together." 

"  That  we  should,"  they  said. 

"Well,  how  would  you  like  to  emigrate  to 
Kansas  and  begin  life  anew;  away  from  all  old 
associates?  I  need  not  add  that  if  you  decide  to 
go  the  means  shall  not  be  wanting." 

"  Thank  you,  sir  ;  you  have  been  the  best  oi 
friends  to  us  both,  and  to  our  mother,  you  and 
Mrs.  Travilla,"  said  Tom,  with  emotion  :  "and  this 
is  just   what   Sally   and  i  have  been  wishing  we 


io6  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

could  do.  I  understand  something  of  farming  and 
should  like  to  take  up  a  claim  out  there  in  some 
good  location  where  land  is  given  to  those  who 
will  settle  on  it.  And  if  you,  sir,  can  conveniently 
advance  the  few  hundred  dollars  we  shall  need  to 
carry  us  there  and  give  us  a  fair  start,  I  shall 
gladly  and  thankfully  accept  it  as  a  loan ;  hoping 
to  be  able  to  return  it  in  a  year  or  two." 

This  was  the  arrangement  made  and  preparations 
to  carry  it  out  were  immediately  set  on  foot.  In  a 
few  days  the  brother  and  sister  bade  good-bye  to 
their  kind  entertainers,  their  mother,  now  nearly 
recovered,  joined  them  in  Philadelphia,  and  the 
three  together  turned  their  faces  westward. 

In  bidding  adieu  to  Elsie,  Sally  whispered  with 
tears  of  joy  the  good  news  that  Tom  was  trusting 
in  a  strength  mightier  than  his  own,  and  so,  as 
years  rolled  on,  these  friends  were  not  surprised  to 
hear  of  his  steadfast  adherence  to  the  practice  of 
total  abstinence  from  all  intoxicating  drinks,  and  his 
growing  prosperity. 


CHAPTER   TWELFTH. 

"  You  may  as  well 
Forbid  the  seas  to  obey  the  moon, 
As,  or  by  oath,  remove,  or  counsel,  shake 
The  fabric  of  her  folly." 

—  Shakespeare. 

Scarcely  had  the  Gibsons  departed  when  then- 
places  were  more  than  filled  by  the  unexpected 
arrival  of  a  large  party  from  Roselands,  comprising 
old  Mr.  Dinsmore,  with  his  daughter  Mrs.  Conly 
and  her  entire  family,  with  the  exception  of 
Calhoun,  who  would  follow  shortly. 

They  were  welcomed  by  their  relatives  with  true 
southern  hospitality  and  assured  that  the  two  cot- 
tages could  readily  be  made  to  accommodate  them 
all  comfortably. 

"  What  news  of  Molly  ?  "  was  the  first  question 
after  the  greetings  had  been  exchanged. 

Mrs.  Conly  shook  her  head  and  sighed,  "  Hasn't 
been  able  to  set  her  foot  on  the  floor  for  weeks, 
and  I  don't  believe  she  ever  will.  That's  Dr. 
Pancoast's  opinion,  and  he's  good  authority. 
'Twas  her  condition  that  brought  us  North. 
We've  left  her  and  her  mother  at  the  Continental 
in  Philadelphia. 

"There's  to  be  a  consultation  to-morrow  of  all 
107 


io8  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

the  best  surgeons  in  the  city.  Enna  wanted  me  to 
stay  with  her  till  that  was  over,  but  I  couldn't 
think  of  it  with  all  these  children  fretting  and 
worrying  to  get  down  here  out  of  the  heat.  So  I 
told  her  I'd  leave  Cal  to  take  care  of  her  and 
Molly. 

"  Dick's  with  them  too.  He's  old  enough  to  be 
useful  now,  and  Molly  clings  to  him  far  more  than 
to  her  mother." 

"Isn't  it  dreadful,"  said  Virginia,  "to  think 
that  that  fall  down-stairs  has  made  her  a  cripple 
for  life  ?  though  nobody  thought  she  was  much  hurt 
at  first." 

"Poor  child!  how  does  she  bear  it?"  asked 
her  uncle. 

"She  doesn't  know  how  to  bear  it  at  all,"  said 
Mrs.  Conly;   "she  nearly  cries  her  eyes  out." 

"No  wonder,"  remarked  the  grandfather;  "it's 
a  terrible  prospect  she  has  before  her,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  the  present  suffering.  And  her  mother  has 
no  patience  with  her  j  pities  herself  instead  of  the 
child." 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Conly,  "Enna  was  never 
known  to  have  much  patience  with  anybody  or 
anything." 

"But  Dick's  good  to  her,"  remarked  Isadore. 

"  Yes,"  said  Arthur,  "it's  really  beautiful  to  see 
his  devotion  to  her  and  how  she  clings  to  him. 
And  it's  doing  the  lad  good ; — making  a  man  of 
him." 


ELSJE'S  CHILD  REX.  109 

"  Surely  Enna  must  feel  for  her  child  !  "  Elsie 
said,  thinking  of  her  own  darlings  and  how  her 
very  heart  would  be  torn  with  anguish  at  the  sight 
of  one  of  them  in  so  distressing  a  condition. 

"  Yes,  of  course,  she  cried  bitterly  over  her  when 
first  the  truth  dawned  upon  her  that  Molly  was 
really  so  dreadfully  injured ;  but  of  course  that 
couldn't  last  and  she  soon  took  to  bewailing  her 
own  hard  fate  in  having  such  a  burden  on  her 
hands,  a  daughter  who  must  always  live  single  and 
could  never  be  anything  but  a  helpless  invalid." 

Elsie  understood  how  it  was ;  for  had  she  not 
known  Enna  from  a  child  ?  Her  heart  ached  for 
Molly,  and  as  she  told  her  own  little  ones  of  their 
poor  cousin's  hopeless,  helpless  state,  she  mingled 
her  tears  with  theirs. 

"Mamma,  won't  you  'vite  her  to  come  here?" 
pleaded  Harold. 

"  Yes,  dear  mamma,  do,"  urged  the  others, 
"  and  let  us  all  try  to  amuse  and  comfort  her." 

"  If  I  do,  my  dears,  you  may  be  called  upon  at 
times  to  give  up  your  pleasures  for  her.  Do  you 
think  you  will  be  willing  to  do  sol*  " 

At  that  the  young  faces  grew  very  grave,  and  for 
a  moment  no  one  spoke.  Quirk,  impulsive  Violet 
was  the  first  to  answer. 

"  Yes,  mamma,  I'm  willing  ;  I  do  feel  so  sorry 
for  her  I'd  do  anything  to  help  her  bear  her  pain." 

"  Mamma,"  said  Elsie,  softly,  "  I'll  ask  Jesus  to 
help  me,  and  I'm  sure  he  will." 


no  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"So  am  I,  daughter;  and  I  think  Vi  means  to 
ask  his  help  too?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  mamma,  I  do  !  " 

"And  I,"  "and  I,"  "and  I,"  responded  the 
others. 

So  the  invitation  was  sent,  for  Molly  and  her 
mother  and  brother  to  come  and  pay  as  long  a 
visit  as  they  would. 

A  letter  came  in  a  few  days,  accepting  it  and 
giving  the  sorrowful  news  that  all  the  surgeons 
agreed  in  the  opinion  that  the  poor  girl's  spine  had 
been  so  injured  that  she  would  never  again  have 
any  use  of  her  lower  limbs. 

It  was  Mrs  Conly  who  brought  the  letter  to  her 
niece,  it  having  come  in  one  addressed  to  herself. 
She  expressed  strong  sympathy  for  Molly,  but  was 
much  taken  up  with  the  contents  of  another  letter 
received  by  the  same  mail. 

"  I've  just  had  a  most  generous  offer  from  Mr. 
Conly's  sister,  Mrs.  Delaford,"  she  said  to  her 
niece.  "She  has  no  children  of  her  own,  is  a 
widow  and  very  wealthy,  and  she's  very  fond  of 
my  Isadore,  who  is  her  godchild  and  namesake. 
She  offers  now  to  clothe  and  educate  her,  with  the 
view  of  making  the  child  her  heir  ;  and  also  to  pay 
for  Virgy's  tuition,  if  I  will  send  them  both  to  the 
convent  where  she  was  herself  educated." 

"Aunt  Louise,  you  will  not  think  of  it  surely?  " 
cried  Elsie,  looking  much  disturbed. 

"And   why   not,    pray?"    asked    Mrs.    Conly, 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  Ill 

drawing  herself  up,  and  speaking  in  a  tone  of 
mingled  hauteur,  pique  and  annoyance. 

"You  would  not  wish  them  to  become  Ro- 
manists ? ' ' 

"  No,  of  course  not ;  but  that  need  not  follow." 

"It  is  very  apt  to  follow." 

"Nonsense  !  I  should  exact  a  promise  that  their 
faith  would  not  be  interfered  with." 

"But  would  that  avail,  since,  'No  faith  with 
heretics,'  has  been  for  centuries  the  motto  of  the 
'infallible,  unchangeable,'  Church  of  Rome  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  are  inclined  to  see  danger  where 
there  is  none,"  returned  the  aunt.  "  I  would  not 
for  the  world  be  as  anxious  and  fussy  about  my 
children  as  you  are  about  yours.  Besides,  I  think 
it  quite  right  to  let  their  father's  relatives  do  for 
them  when  they  are  both  able  and  willing." 

"But  Aunt  Louise " 

"There!  don't  let  us  talk  anymore  about  the 
matter  to-day,  if  you  please,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Conly,  rising,  "  I  must  go  now  and  prepare  for  my 
bath.  I'll  be  in  again  this  evening  to  see  Enna 
and  the  others.  They'll  be  down  by  the  afternoon 
train.     Good-morning." 

And  she  sailed  away,  leaving  Elsie  sad  and  anx- 
ious for  the  future  of  her  your,-  <  <>  :  ins. 

"What  is  it,  daughter?"  Mr.  Dinsmore  asked, 
coming  in  a  moment  later.  "  I  have  seldom  seen 
you  look  so  disturbed." 

Her  fa<  e  brightened,  as  was  its  wont  under  her 


H2  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

father's  greeting,  but,  this  time,  only  momen- 
tarily. 

"I  am  troubled,  papa,"  she  said,  making  room 
for  him  on  the  sofa  by  her  side.  "  Here  is  a  note 
from  Enna.  The  doctors  give  Molly  no  hope  that 
she  will  ever  walk  again.  One  cannot  help  feeling 
very  sad  for  her,  poor  child  !  and  besides  some- 
thing Aunt  Louise  has  been  telling  me,  makes  me 
anxious  for  Isadore  and  Virginia." 

He  was  scarcely  less  concerned  than  she,  when 
he  heard  what  that  was.  "  I  shall  talk  to  Louise," 
he  said,  "  it  would  be  the  height  of  folly  to  expose 
her  girls  to  such  influences.  It  is  true  I  once  had 
some  thoughts  of  sending  you  to  a  convent  school, 
under  the  false  impression  that  the  accomplish- 
ments were  more  thoroughly  taught  there  than  in 
the  Protestant  seminaries ;  but  with  the  light  I 
have  since  gained  upon  the  subject,  I  know  that  it 
would  have  been  a  fearful  mistake." 

"Dear  papa,"  she  said,  putting  her  hand  into 
his  and  looking  at  him  with  loving  eyes,  "  I  am 
so  thankful  to  you  that  you  did  not ;  so  thankful 
that  you  taught  me  yourself.  The  remembrance 
of  the  hours  we  spent  together  as  teacher  and  pupil, 
has  always  been  very  sweet  to  me." 

"  To  me  also,"  he  answered  with  a  smile. 

The  expected  guests  arrived  at  the  appointed 
time,  Enna  looking  worn,  faded  and  fretful,  Dick 
sad  and  anxious,  poor  Molly,  weary,  exhausted, 
despairing ;    as  if  life  had  lost  all  brightness  to  her. 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  113 

Her  proud  spirit  rebelled  against  her  helpless- 
ness, against  the  curious,  even  the  pitying  looks  it 
attracted  to  her  from  strangers  in  the  streets  and 
public  conveyances. 

The  transit  from  one  vehicle  to  another  was 
made  in.  the  strong  arms  of  a  stalwart  negro  whom 
they  had  brought  with  them  from  Roselands,  Dick 
following  closely  to  guard  his  sister  from  accident, 
and  shield  her  as  much  as  possible  from  observa- 
tion, while  Enna  and  Cal  brought  up  the  rear. 

A  room  on  the  ground  floor  had  been  appro- 
priated to  Molly's  use,  and  thither  she  was  carried 
at  once,  and  gently  laid  upon  a  couch.  Instantly 
her  cousin  Elsie's  arms  were  about  her,  her  head 
pillowed  upon  the  gentle  breast,  while  tears  of  lov- 
ing sympathy  fell  fast  upon  her  poor  pale  face, 
mingled  with  tender  caresses  and  whispered  words 
of  endearment. 

It  did  the  child  good  ;  the  tears  and  sobs  that 
came  in  response,  relieved  her  aching  heart  of  half 
its  load.      But  it  vexed  Enna. 

"What  folly,  Elsie!"  she  said,  "don't  you 
see  how  you're  making  the  child  cry?  And  I've 
been  doing  my  best  to  get  her  to  stop  it;  for 
of  course  it  does  no  good,  and  only  injures  her 
eyes. ' ' 

"Forgive  me,  dear  child,  if  I  have  hurt  you," 
Elsie  said  low  and  tenderly,  as  she  laid  Molly's 
head  gently  bark  against  the  pillows. 

"You  haven't  !   you've  done  me  good  !  "  cried 


114  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

the  girl,  flashing  an  indignant  glance  at  Enna. 
"Oh,  mother,  if  you  treated  me  so,  it  wouldn't  be 
half  so  hard  to  bear  !  ' ' 

"I've  learned  not  to  expect  anything  but  ingrati- 
tude from  my  children,"  said  Enna,  coldly  return- 
ing Elsie's  kind  greeting. 

But  Dick  grasped  his  cousin's  hand  warmly,  giv- 
ing her  a  look  of  grateful  affection,  and  accepted 
with  delight  her  offered  kiss. 

"Now,  I  will  leave  you  to  rest,"  she  said  to 
Molly,  "and  when  you  feel  like  seeing  your  cous- 
ins, they  will  be  glad  to  come  in  and  speak  to  you. 
They  are  anxious  to  do  all  they  can  for  your  enter- 
tainment while  you  are  here." 

"  Yes,  but  I  want  to  see  grandpa  and  Uncle 
Horace  now,  please;  they  just  kissed  me  in  the 
car,  and  that  was  all." 

They  came  in  at  once,  full  of  tender  sympathy 
for  the  crippled,  suffering  child. 

"They're  so  kind,"  sobbed  Molly,  as  they  left 
the  room. 

"Yes,  you  can  appreciate  everybody's  kindness 
but  your  mother's,"  remarked  Enna  in  a  piqued 
tone,  "  and  everybody  can  be  sorry  for  you,  but  my 
feelings  are  lost  sight  of  entirely." 

"Oh,  mother,  don't!"  sighed  Molly.  "I'm 
sure  I've  enough  to  bear  without  your  reproaches. 
I'd  appreciate  you  fast  enough,  if  you  were  such  a 
mother  as  Cousin  Elsie." 

"  Or  as  Aunt  Louise,  why  don't  you  say  ?  "  said 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  115 

Mrs.  Conly,  coming  in,  going  up  to  the  couch,  and 
kissing  her.     "  How  d'ye  do,  Enna?  " 

' '  Yes,  even  you  are  sorrier  for  me  than  mother 
is,  I  do  believe  !  ' '  returned  Molly,  bursting  into 
tears  ;  "  and  if  it  was  Isa  or  Virgy  you'd  be  ever  so 
good  to  her,  and  not  scold  her  as  mother  does 
me." 

"Why,  I'm  just  worn  out  and  worried  half  to 
death  about  that  girl,"  said  Enna,  in  answer  to  her 
sister's  query.  "She'll  never  walk  a  step  again — 
all  the  doctors  say  that."  At  these  words  Molly 
was  almost  convulsed  with  sobs,  but  Enna  went  on 
relentlessly.  "And  when  they  asked  her  how  it 
happened,  she  up  and  told  them  her  high-heeled 
shoes  threw  her  down,  and  that  she  didn't  want  to 
wear  them,  but  I  made  her  do  it." 

"  And  so  you  did,  and  I  only  told  it  because  one 
of  the  doctors  asked  if  I  didn't  know  they  were 
dangerous ;  and  when  I  said  yes,  he  wanted  to 
know  how  I  came  to  be  so  foolish  as  to  wear  them." 

"  And  then  he  lectured  me,"  Enna  went  on,  "  as 
if  it  was  all  my  fault,  when  of  course  it  was  her 
own  carelessness ;  f  r  if  it  wasn't,  why  haven't 
some  of  the  rest  of  us  fallen  down.  Accidents 
happen  when  nobody's  to  blame." 

"  I  came  near  falling  the  other  day,  myself,"  said 
Mr-,.  Conly,  "and  I'll  never  wear  a  high,  narrow 
heel  again,  nor  let  one  of  my  girls  do  so.  Now 
I'm  going  out.  You  two  ought  to  take  a  nap; 
Molly  especially,  poor  child  !     I'm  very  sorry  for 


n6  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

you  ;  but  don't  cry  any  more  now.  It  will  only 
hurt  your  eyes." 

Mrs.  Conly  was  to  stay  to  tea  and  spend  the 
evening.  Stepping  into  the  parlor  she  found  all  the 
adult  members  of  the  family  there. 

"I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you,  Louise,"  her 
brother  said,  seating  her  comfortably  on  a  sofa  and 
drawing  up  a  chair  beside  her. 

"And  I  think  I  know- what  about,"  she  returned 
with  heightened  color,  glancing  toward  Elsie,  "but 
let  me  tell  you  beforehand,  Horace,  that  you  may 
as  well  spare  yourself  the  trouble.  I  have  already 
accepted  Mrs.  Delaford's  offer." 

"Louise  !  how  could  you  be  so  hasty  in  so  im- 
portant a  matter?" 

"Permit  me  to  answer  that  question  with 
another,"  she  retorted,  drawing  herself  up  haugh- 
tily, "  what  right  have  you  to  call  me  to  an  account 
for  so  doing  ?  ' ' 

"Only  the  right  of  an  older  brother  to  take  a 
fraternal  interest  in  your  welfare  and  that  of  his 
nieces." 

"What  is  it,  mother?"  asked  Calhoun. 

She  told  him  in  a  few  words,  and  he  turned  to 
his  uncle  with  the  query  why  he  so  seriously  ob- 
jected to  her  acceptance  of  what  seemed  so  favora- 
ble an  offer. 

' '  Because  I  think  it  would  be  putting  in  great 
jeopardy  the  welfare  of  your  sisters,  temporal  and 
spiritual." 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  117 

"What  nonsense,  Horace!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Conly  angrily.  "  Of  course  I  shall  expressly  stip- 
ulate that  their  faith  is  not  to  be  interfered  with." 

"And  just  as  much  of  course  the  promise  will 
be  given  and  systematically  broken  without  the 
slightest  compunction ;  because  in  the  creed  of 
Rome  the  end  sanctifies  the  means  and  no  end  is 
esteemed  higher  or  holier  than  that  of  adding  mem- 
bers to  her  communion." 

"Well,"  said  Louise,  "I  must  say  you  judge 
them  hardly.  I'm  sure  there  are  at  least  some 
pious  ones  among  them  and  of  course  they  wouldn't 
lie." 

"You  forget  that  the  more  pious  they  are,  the 
more  obedient  they  will  be  to  the  teachings  of 
their  church,  and  when  she  tells  them  it  is  a  pious 
act  to  be  false  to  their  word  or  oath,  for  her  ad- 
vancement, or  to  burn,  kill  and  destroy,  or  to 
break  any  other  commandment  of  the  decalogue, 
they  will  obey  believing  that  thus  they  do  God 
service. 

"Really  the  folly  and  credulity  of  Protestant 
parents  who  commit  their  children  to  the  care  of 
those  who  tea<  h  and  put  in  practice,  too,  these  two 
maxims,  so  utterly  destructive  of  all  truth  and 
honesty,  all  confidence  between  man  and  man — 
'  The  end  sanctifies  the  means,'  and  '  No  faith  with 
heretics,' — is  to  me  perfectly  astounding." 

"So  you  consider  me  a  fool."  said  Mrs.  Conly, 
bridling,  "thanks  for  the  compliment." 


Il8  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"It  is  you  who  make  the  application,  Louise," 
he  answered.  "  I  had  no  thought  of  doing  so,  and 
still  hope  you  will  prove  your  wisdom  by  recon- 
sidering and  letting  Mrs.  Delaford  know  that  you 
revoke  your  decision." 

"Indeed  I  shall  not;  I  consider  that  I  have  no 
right  to  throw  away  Isadore's  for  Lane." 

"  Have  you  then  a  greater  right  to  imperil  her 
soul's  salvation?"  he  asked  with  solemn  earnest- 
ness. 

"Pshaw!  what  a  serious  thing  you  make  of 
it,"  she  exclaimed,  yet  with  an  uneasy  and  troub- 
led look. 

"Uncle!  "  cried  Calhoun  in  surprise,  "do  you 
not  think  there  have  been  and  are  some  real  Chris- 
tians in  the  Romish  Church  ?  " 

"No  doubt  of  it,  Cal ;  some  who,  spite  of  her 
idolatrous  teachings,  worship  God  alone  and  put 
their  trust  solely  in  the  atoning  blood  and  imputed 
righteousness  of  Christ.  Yet  who  can  fail  to  see  in 
the  picture  of  Babylon  the  Great  so  graphically 
drawn  in  Revelation,  a  faithful  portraiture  of  Rome  ? 
And  the  command  is,  '  Come  out  of  her,  my  people, 
that  ye  be  not  partaker  of  her  sins,  and  that  ye  re- 
ceive not  of  her  plagues.'  " 

Mr.  Dinsmore  paused,  but  no  one  seeming  to 
have  anything  to  say  in  reply,  went  on  to  give  his 
sister  a  number  of  instances  which  had  come  to  his 
knowledge,  of  the  perversion  of  Protestant  girls 
while  being  educated  in  convents. 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  119 

"Well,"  she  said  at  last,  "I'm  not  going  to 
draw  back  now,  but  I  shall  be  on  the  watch  and  if 
they  do  begin  to  tamper  with  my  girls'  faith  I'll 
remove  them  at  once.  There  now  I  hope  you  are 
satisfied  !  " 

"  Not  quite,  Louise,"  he  said,  "  they  are  accom- 
plished proselyters  and  may  have  the  foundations 
completely  and  irremediably  undermined  ere  you 
suspect  that  they  have  begun." 


CHAPTER  THIRTEENTH. 

"  Affliction  is  the  wholesome  soil  of  virtue  ; 
Where  patience,  honor,  sweet  humanity, 
Calm  fortitude,  take  root,  and  strongly  flourish." 
— Mallet  and  Thomson's  Alfred. 

A  bath,  a  nap,  and  a  dainty  supper  had  re- 
freshed Molly  somewhat  before  the  children  were 
admitted  to  her  room,  but  they  found  her  looking 
pale  and  thin,  and  oh,  so  sorrowful !  so  different 
from  the  bright,  merry,  happy  "Cousin  Molly"  of 
six  months  ago. 

Their  little  hearts  swelled  with  sympathetic  grief, 
and  tears  filled  their  eyes  as  one  after  another  they 
took  her  hand  and  kissed  her  lovingly. 

"  Poor  child,  I  so  soily  for  oo  !  "  said  Herbert, 
and  Molly  laughed  hysterically,  then  put  her  hands 
over  her  face,  and  sobbed  as  though  her  heart 
would  break.  First,  it  was  the  oddity  of  being 
called  "child"  by  such  a  mere  baby,  then  the 
thought  that  she  had  become  an  object  of  pity  to 
such  an  one. 

"Don'  ky,"  he  said,  pulling  away  her  hand  to 
kiss  her  cheek.  "  Herbie  didn't  mean  to  make  oo 
ky." 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  121 

"  Come,  Herbie  dear,  let  us  go  now  ;  we  mustn't 
tease  poor  sick  cousin,"  whispered  his  sister  Elsie, 
drawing  him  gently  away. 

"No,  no!  let  him  stay;  let  him  love  me," 
sobbed  Molly.  "He  is  a  dear  little  fellow,"  she 
added,  returning  his  caresses,  and  wiping  away  her 
tears. 

"Herbie  will  love  00,  poor  old  sing,"  he  said, 
stroking  her  face,  "and  mamma  and  papa,  and  all 
de  folks  will  be  ever  so  dood  to  00." 

Molly's  laugh  was  more  natural  this  time,  and 
under  its  inspiring  influence,  the  little  ones  grew 
quite  merry,  really  amusing  her  with  their  prattle, 
till  their  mammy  came  to  take  them  to  bed. 

Elsie  was  beginning  to  say  good-night  too,  think- 
ing there  was  danger  of  wearying  the  invalid,  but 
Molly  said,  '•  I  don't  wonder  you  want  to  leave  me; 
mother  says   nobody  could  like  to  stay  with  such 

a ' '  she  broke  off  suddenly,  again  hid  her  face 

in  her  hands  and  wept  bitterly. 

"  Oh,  no,  no  !  I  was  only  afraid  of  tiring  you," 
Elsie  said,  leaning  over  her  and  stroking  her  hair 
with  soft,  gentle  touch.  "I  should  like  to  stay 
and  talk  if  you  wish  ;  to  tell  you  all  about  our 
visit  to  the  Crags,  and  mamma's  old  governess, 
and " 

"Oh,  yes,  do;  anything  to  help  me  to  forget, 
even  for  a  few  minutes.  Oh,  I  wish  I  was  dead  ! 
\  wish  I  was  dead  !  I  can't  bear  to  live  and  be  a 
*ipple  !  " 


122  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"  Dear  Molly,  don't  cry,  don't  feel  so  dreadfully 
about  it !  "  Elsie  said,  weeping  with  her.  "Jesus 
will  help  you  to  bear  it ;  he  loves  you,  and  is  sorrier 
for  you  than  anybody  else  is ;  and  he  won't  let  you 
be  sick  or  in  pain  in  heaven." 

"No,  he  doesn't  love  me!  I'm  not  good 
enough ;  and  if  he  did,  he  wouldn't  have  let  me 
get  such  a  dreadful  falL" 

Little  Elsie  was  perplexed  for  the  moment,  and 
knew  not  what  to  answer. 

"Couldn't  he  have  kept  me  from  falling?" 
demanded  Molly,  almost  fiercely. 

"Yes,  he  can  do  everything." 

"  Then  I  hate  him  for  letting  me  fall !  " 

Elsie  was  inexpressibly  shocked.  "  Oh,  Molly  !  " 
in  an  awed,  frightened  tone,  was  all  that  she  could 
say. 

"I'm  awfully  wicked,  I  know  I  am;  but  I  can't 
help  it.  Why  did  he  let  me  fall  ?  I  couldn't  bear 
to  let  a  dog  be  so  dreadfully  hurt,  if  I  could  help 
it  !  " 

"Molly,  the  Bible  says  '  God  is  love.'  And  in 
another  place,  '  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he 
gave  his  only  begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  be- 
lieveth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlast- 
ing life.'  'God  commendeth  his  love  toward  us, 
in  that  while  we  were  yet  sinners,  Christ  died  for 
us.'  He  must  have  loved  you,  Molly,  when  he 
died  that  dreadful  death  to  save  you." 

"Not  me." 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  123 

"  Yes,  if  you  will  believe.  •  Whosoever  be- 
lieveth.'  " 

"It  was  just  for  everybody  in  a  lump,"  said 
Molly,  sighing  wearily.  "Not  for  you  or  me,  or 
anybody  in  particular  ;  at  least  not  anybody  that's 
living  now;  because  we  weren't  made  then;  so 
how  could  he?  " 

"But  mamma  says  he  knew  he  was  going  to 
make  us,  just  the  same  as  he  does  now ;  and  that 
he  thought  of  each  one,  and  loved  and  died  for 
each  one  just  as  much  as  if  there  was  only  one." 

"  Well,  it's  queer  if  he  loved  me  so  well  as  that, 
and  yet  would  let  me  fall  and  be  so  awfully  in- 
jured. What's  this?  You  didn't  have  it  before 
you  came  North,"  taking  hold  of  the  gold  chain 
about  Elsie's  neck. 

Out  came  the  little  watch  and  Elsie  told  about, 
the  aching  tooth  and  the  trip  to  New  York  to  have 
it  extracted. 

"Seems  to  me,"  was  Molly's  comment,  "you 
have  all  the  good  things :  such  a  nice  mother  and 
everything  else.  Such  a  good  father  too,  and 
mine  was  killed  when  I  was  a  little  bit  of  a  thing ; 
and  mother's  so  cross. 

"But  Dick's  good  to  me  ;  dear  old  Dick,"  she 
added,  looking  up  at  him  with  glistening  eyes  as 
he  came  in  and  going  up  to  her  couch,  asked  how 
she  was. 

"You'd  better  go  to  sleep  now,"  he  said. 
"  You've  been  talking  quite  awhile,  haven't  you?" 


124  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

At  that  Elsie  slipped  quietly  away  and  went  in 
search  of  her  mother. 

She  found  her  alone  on  the  veranda  looking  out 
meditatively  upon  the  restless  moonlit  waters  of  the 
sea. 

"  Mamma,"  said  the  child  softly,  "  I  should  like 
a  stroll  on  the  beach  with  you.  Can  we  go  alone  ? 
I  want  to  talk  with  you  about  something." 

"  Come  then,  daughter,"  and  hand  in  hand  they 
sought  the  beach,  only  a  few  yards  distant. 

It  was  a  clear  still  night,  the  moon  nearly  at  the 
full,  and  the  cool  salt  breeze  from  the  silver-tipped 
waves  was  exceedingly  refreshing  after  the  heat 
of  the  day ;  which  had  been  one  of  the  hottest  of 
the  season. 

For  a  while  they  paced  to  and  fro  in  silence  ; 
then  little  Elsie  gave  her  mother  the  substance  of 
her  conversation  with  Molly  in  which  the  latter  ex- 
pressed her  disbelief  in  God's  love  for  her  because 
he  had  not  prevented  her  fall.  ''Mamma,"  she 
said  in  conclusion,  "  how  I  wished  you  were  there 
to  make  her  understand." 

"Poor  child  !  "  said  the  mother,  in  low,  moved 
tones,  "  only  he  who  permitted  this  sore  trial  can 
convince  her  that  it  was  sent  in  love." 

"  But  you  will  talk  to  her,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Yes,  when  a  suitable  opportunity  offers ;  but 
prayer  can  do  more  for  her  than  any  words  of 
ours,  addressed  to  her." 

The  presence  of  Molly  and  her  mother  proved 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  125 

a  serious  drawback  to  the  enjoyment  of  our  party 
during  the  remainder  of  their  sojourn  at  the  sea- 
shore. The  burden  fell  heaviest  upon  Elsie  and 
her  children,  as  the  principal  entertainers,  and  the 
mother  had  often  to  counsel  patience  and  forbear- 
ance, and  to  remind  her  darlings  of  their  promise 
to  be  ready  to  do  all  they  could  for  the  comfort 
and  happiness  of  the  sufferer. 

All  made  praiseworthy  efforts  to  fulfil  their  en- 
gagement, and  Elsie  and  Vi,  particularly  the 
former,  as  nearest  to  Molly  in  age,  and  therefore 
most  desired  by  her  as  a  companion,  gave  up  many 
a  pleasure  excursion  for  her  sake,  staying  at  home 
to  talk  with  and  amuse  her  when  all  the  rest  were 
out  driving  or  boating. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEENTH. 

**  Ah  !  who  can  say,  however  fair  his  view, 
Through  what  sad  scenes  his  path  may  lie  ?  " 

Mrs.  Conly  adhered  to  her  resolve  in  regard  to 
the  education  of  her  daughters,  and  about  the 
middle  of  September  left  with  them  and  her 
younger  children  for  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Delaford,  at 
whose  house  the  wardrobes  of  the  two  girls  were  to 
be  made  ready  for  their  first  school  year  at  the 
convent  chosen  by  their  aunt. 

Arthur  went  with  them  as  their  escort.  A  week 
later  the  rest  of  the  Roselands  party  returned 
home,  and  early  in  October  the  Oaks  and  Ion  re- 
joiced in  the  return  of  their  families. 

Baby  Lily  had  been  so  benefited  by  the  trip  that 
Elsie  felt  warranted  in  resuming  her  loved  employ- 
ment as  acting  governess  to  her  older  children. 

They  fell  into  the  old  round  of  duties  and 
pleasures,  as  loving  and  happy  a  family  as  one 
might  wish  to  see;  a  striking  and  most  pleasant 
contrast  to  the  one  at  Roselands,  that  of  Enna 
and  her  offspring — where  the  mother  fretted  and 
scolded,  and  the  children,  following  her  example 
were  continually  at  war  with  one  another. 

Only  between  Dick  and  Molly  there  was  peace 
126 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  127 

and  love.  The  poor  girl  led  a  weary  life  pinned 
to  her  couch  or  chair,  wholly  dependent  upon 
others  for  the  means  of  locomotion  and  for  any- 
thing that  was  not  within  reach  of  her  hand. 

She  had  not  yet  learned  submission  under  her 
trial,  and  her  mother  was  far  from  being  an  assist- 
ance in  bearing  it.  Molly  was  greatly  depressed 
in  spirits,  and  her  mother's  scolding  and  fretting 
were  often  almost  beyond  endurance. 

Her  younger  brother  and  sister  thought  it  a 
trouble  to  wait  on  her  and  usually  kept  out  of  her 
way,  but  Dick,  when  present,  was  her  faithful 
slave  ;  always  ready  to  lift  and  carry  her,  or  to 
bring  her  anything  she  wanted.  But  much  of 
Dick's  time  was  necessarily  occupied  with  his 
studies,  and  in  going  to  and  from  his  school,  which 
was  two  or  three  miles  distant. 

He  was  very  thoughtful  for  her  comfort,  and  it 
was  through  his  suggestion,  that  their  grandfather 
directed  that  one  of  the  pleasantest  rooms  in  the 
house,  overlooking  the  avenue,  so  that  all  the  com- 
ing and  going  could  be  seen  from  its  windows, 
should  be  appropriated  to  Molly's  use. 

There  Dick  would  seat  her  each  morning,  before 
starting  for  school,  in  an  invalid's  easy-chair  pre- 
sented to  her  by  her  Cousin  Elsie,  and  there  he 
would  be  pretty  sure  to  find  her  on  his  return,  un- 
less, as  occasionally  happened,  their  grandfather, 
Uncle  Horace,  Mr.  Travilla,  or  some  one  of  the 
relatives,  had  taken  her  out  for  a  drive. 


128  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

One  afternoon  about  the  last  of  November, 
Molly,  weary  of  sewing  and  reading,  weary  inex- 
pressibly weary,  of  her  confinement  and  enforced 
quietude,  was  gazing  longingly  down  the  avenue, 
wishing  that  some  one  would  come  to  take  her  out 
for  an  airing,  when  the  door  opened  and  her 
mother  came  in  dressed  for  the  open  air,  in  hat, 
cloak  and  furs. 

"  I  want  you  to  button  my  glove,  Molly,"  she 
said,  holding  out  her  wrist,  "  Rachel's  so  busy  on 
my  new  silk,  and  you  have  nothing  to  do.  What 
a  fortunate  child  you  are  to  be  able  to  take  your 
ease  all  the  time." 

"My  ease!"  cried  Molly  bitterly,  "I'd  be 
gladder  than  words  can  tell  to  change  places  with 
you  for  awhile." 

"Humph!  you  don't  know  what  you're  wish- 
ing ;  the  way  I  have  to  worry  over  my  sewing  for 
four  besides  myself,  is  enough  to  try  the  patience 
of  a  saint.  By  the  way,  it's  high  time  you  began 
to  make  yourself  useful  in  that  line.  With  prac- 
tice, you  might  soon  learn  to  accomplish  a  great 
deal,  having  nothing  to  do  but  stick  at  it  from 
morning  to  night." 

Molly  was  in  the  act  of  buttoning  the  second 
glove.  Tears  sprang  to  her  eyes  at  this  evidence 
of  her  mother's  heartlessness,  and  one  bright  drop 
fell  on  Enna's  wrist. 

"There  you  have  stained  my  glove  !  "  she  ex- 
claimed  angrily.      "What  a  baby  you   are!    will 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  129 

you  never  have  done  with  this  continued  cry- 
ing ? " 

' '  It  seems  to  be  very  easy  for  you  to  bear  my 
troubles,  mother,"  returned  poor  Molly,  raising 
her  head  proudly,  and  dashing  away  the  tears,  "I 
will  try  to  learn  to  bear  them  too,  and  never  again 
appeal  to  my  mother  for  sympathy." 

' '  You  get  enough  of  that  from  Dick,  he  cares 
ten  times  as  much  for  you  as  he  does  for  me — his 
own  mother." 

At  that  moment  Betty  came  running  in. 
"Mother,  the  carriage  is  at  the  door,  and  grand- 
pa's ready.  Molly,  grandpa  says  he'll  take  you 
too,  if  you  want  to  go." 

Molly's  face  brightened,  but  before  she  could 
speak,  Enna  answered  for  her.  "No,  she  can't; 
there  isn't  time  to  get  her  ready." 

Mrs.  Johnson  hurried  from  the  room,  Betty  fol- 
lowing close  at  her  heels,  and  Molly  was  left  alone 
in  her  grief  and  weariness. 

She  watched  the  carriage  as  it  rolled  down  the 
avenue,  then  turning  from  the  window,  indulged 
in  a  hearty  cry. 

At  length,  exhausted  by  her  emotion,  she  laid 
her  head  back  and  fell  asleep  in  her  chair. 

How  long  she  had  slept  she  did  not  know;  some 
unusual  noise  down-stairs  woke  her,  and  the  next 
moment  Betty  rushed  in  screaming,  "Oh,  Molly, 
Molly,  mother  and  grandfather's  killed ;  both  of 
'em  1     Oh,  dear  !  oh,  dear  !  " 


130  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

For  an  instant  Molly  seemed  stunned,  she 
scarcely  comprehended  Betty's  words,  then  as  the 
child  repeated,  "They're  killed!  they're  both 
killed;  the  horses  ran  away  and  threw  'em  out," 
she  too  uttered  a  cry  of  anguish,  and  grasping  the 
arms  of  her  chair,  made  desperate  efforts  to  rise ; 
but  all  in  vain,  and  with  a  groan  she  sank  back, 
and  covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  shed  the 
bitterest  tears  her  impotence  had  ever  yet  cost  her. 

Betty  had  run  away  again,  and  she  was  all  alone. 
Oh,  how  hard  it  was  for  her  to  be  chained  there  in 
such  an  agony  of  doubt  and  distress  1  She  forcibly 
restrained  her  groans  and  sobs,  and  listened  in- 
tently. 

The  Conlys,  except  Cal,  were  still  at  the  North ; 
the  house  seemed  strangely  quiet,  only  now  and 
then  a  stealthy  step  or  a  murmur  of  voices  and  oc- 
casionally a  half  smothered  cry  from  Bob  or  Betty. 

A  horseman  came  dashing  furiously  up  the 
avenue.  It  was  her  uncle,  Mr.  Horace  Dinsmore. 
He  threw  himself  from  the  saddle  and  hurried  into 
the  house,  and  the  next  minute  two  more  followed 
at  the  same  headlong  pace. 

These  were  Cal  and  Dr.  Barton,  and  they  also 
dismounted  in  hot  haste  and  disappeared  from  her 
sight  beneath  the  veranda.  Certainly  something 
very  dreadful  had  happened.  Oh  would  nobody 
come  to  tell  her  ! 

The  minutes  dragged  their  slow  length  along 
seeming  like  hours.     She  lay  back  in  her  chair  in 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  131 

an  agony  of  suspense,  the  perspiration  standing  in 
cold  drops  on  her  brow. 

But  the  sound  of  wheels  roused  her  and  looking 
out  she  saw  the  Oaks  and  Ion  carriages  drive  up, 
young  Horace  and  Rosie  alight  from  the  one,  Mr. 
Travilla  and  Elsie  from  the  other. 

"Oh  !  "  thought  Molly,  "  Cousin  Elsie  will  be 
sure  to  think  of  me  directly  and  I  shall  not  be  left 
much  longer  in  this  horrible  suspense." 

Her  confidence  was  not  misplaced.  Not  many 
minutes  had  elapsed  when  her  door  was  softly 
opened,  a  light  step  crossed  the  floor  and  a  sweet 
fair  face,  full  of  tender  compassion,  bent  over  the 
grief-stricken  girl. 

Molly  tried  to  speak;  her  tongue  refused  its 
office,  but  Elsie  quickly  answered  the  mute  ques- 
tioning of  the  wild,  frightened,  anguished  eyes. 

"There  is  life,"  she  said,  taking  the  cold  hands 
in  hers,  "life  in  both;  and  'while  there  is  life 
there  is  hope.'  Our  dear  old  grandfather  has  a 
broken  leg  and  arm  and  a  few  slight  cuts  and 
bruises,  but  is  restored  to  consciousness  now,  and 
able  to  speak.  Your  poor  mother  has  fared  still 
worse,  we  fear,  as  the  principal  injury  is  to  the 
head,  but  we  will  hope  for  the  best  in  her  case 
also." 

Molly  dropped  her  head  on  her  cousin's  shoulder 
while  a  burst  of  weeping  brought  partial  relief  to 
the  overburdened  heart. 

Elsie  clasped   her  arms  about  her  and  strove  to 


132  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

soothe  and  comfort  her  with  caresses  and  endearing 
words. 

"  If  I  could  only  nurse  mother  now,"  sobbed 
the  girl,  "how  glad  I'd  be  to  do  it.  O  cousin,  it 
most  breaks  my  heart  now  to  think  how  I've  vexed 
and  worried  her  since — since  this  dreadful  trouble 
came  to  me.  I'd  give  anything  never  to  have  said 
a  cross  or  disrespectful  word  to  her.  And  now  I 
can  do  nothing  for  her  !  nothing,  nothing!  "  and 
she  wrung  her  hands  in  grief  and  despair. 

"Yes,  dear  child;  there  is  one  thing  you  can 
do,"  Elsie  answered,  weeping  with  her. 

"What,  what  is  that?"  asked  Molly,  half  in- 
credulously, half  hopefully,  "what  can  I  do 
chained  here  ?  " 

"Pray  for  her,  Molly,  plead  for  her  with  him 
unto  whom  belong  the  issues  from  death  ;  to  him 
who  has  all  power  in  heaven  and  in  earth  and  who 
is  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost." 

"No,  no,  even  that  I  can't  do,"  sobbed  Molly, 
"I've  never  learned  to  pray,  and  he  isn't  my 
friend  as  he  is  yours  and  your  children's  I  " 

"  Then  first  of  all  make  him  your  friend ;  oh, 
he  is  so  kind  and  merciful  and  loving.  He  says, 
'  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.'  '  Him  that  com- 
eth  to  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out.'  " 

"Oh,  if  I  only  knew  how!"  sighed  Molly, 
"nobody  needs  such  a  friend  more  than  I.  I'd 
give  all  the  world  to  have  him  for  mine." 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  133 

"But  you  cannot  buy  his  friendship — his  sal- 
vation; it  is  'without  money  and  without  price.' 
"What  is  it  to  come  to  him  ?  Just  to  take  him  at 
his  word,  give  yourself  to  him  and  believe  his 
promise  that  he  will  not  cast  you  out, ' ' 

There  was  a  tap  at  the  door  and  Rosie  came 
in,  put  her  arms  round  Molly,  kissed  her  and  wept 
with  her. 

Then  young  Horace  followed  and  after  that  his 
father.  Both  seemed  to  feel  very  much  for  Molly 
and  to  be  anxious  to  do  everything  in  their  power 
to  help  and  comfort  her. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  was  evidently  in  deep  grief  and 
soon  withdrew,  Elsie  going  with  him.  They  stood 
together  for  a  few  minutes  in  the  hall. 

"My  dear  father,  how  I  feel  for  you!"  Elsie 
said,  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm  and  looking  up  at 
him  through  gathering  tears. 

"Thank  you,  my  child;  your  sympathy  is  al- 
ways very  sweet  to  me,"  he  said.  "  And  you  have 
mine ;  for  I  know  this  trial  touches  you  also  though 
somewhat  less  nearly  than  myself." 

"  Is  grandpa  suffering  much?  "  she  asked. 

'•  Very  much  ;  and  at  his  age — but  I  will  not  an- 
ticipate sorrow ;  we  know  that  the  event  is  in  the 
hands  of  him  who  doeth  all  things  well.  Ah,  if  he 
were  only  a  Christian  !     And  Enna  !  poor  Enna  !  " 

Sobs  and  cries  coming  from  the  nursery  broke 
in  upon  the  momentary  silence  that  followed  the 
exclamation. 


134  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"  Poor  little  Bob  and  Betty,  I  must  go  to  them," 
Elsie  said,  gliding  away  in  the  direction  of  the 
sounds,  while  Mr.  Dinsmore  returned  to  the  room 
where  his  father  lay  groaning  with  the  pain  of  his 
wounds.  Mr.  Travilla,  Calhoun  and  the  doctor 
were  with  him,  but  he  was  asking  for  his  son. 

"  Horace,"  he  said,  "  can't  you  stay  with  me?" 

"  Yes,  father,  night  and  day  while  you  want 
me." 

"  That's  right !  It's  a  good  thing  to  have  a  good 
son.     Dr.  Barton,  where  are  you  going?" 

"To  your  daughter,  sir,  Mrs.  Johnson." 

"  Enna  !  is  she  much  hurt  ?  "  asked  the  old  man, 
starting  up,  but  falling  back  instantly  with  almost  a 
scream  of  pain. 

"You  must  lie  still,  sir,  indeed  you  must,"  said 
the  doctor,  coming  back  to  the  bed;  "your  life 
depends  upon  your  keeping  quiet  and  exciting 
yourself  as  little  as  possible." 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  but  Enna?" 

"  Has  no  bones  broken." 

"Thank  God  for  that!  then  she'll  do.  Go, 
doctor,  but  don't  leave  the  house  without  seeing 
me  again." 

They  were  glad  he  was  so  easily  satisfied,  but 
knew  he  would  not  be  if  his  mind  were  quite  clear. 

Dick  had  come  home  in  strong  excitement, 
rumors  of  the  accident  having  met  him  on  the  way. 
The  horses  had  taken  fright  at  the  sudden  shriek 
of  a  locomotive,  and  the  breaking  of  a  defective 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  135 

bit  had  deprived  the  old  gentleman  of  the  power  to 
control  them.  They  ran  madly  down  a  steep  em- 
bankment, wrecking  the  carriage  and  throwing 
both  passengers  out  upon  a  bed  of  stones. 

Pale  and  trembling  the  lad  went  straight  to  his 
mother's  room  where  he  found  her  lying  moaning 
on  the  bed,  recognizing  no  one,  unconscious  of 
anything  that  was  going  on  about  her. 

He  discovered  that  he  loved  her  far  more  than 
he  would  have  believed ;  he  thought  her  dying, 
and  his  heart  smote  him,  as  memory  recalled  many 
a  passionate,  undutiful  word  he  had  spoken  to  her ; 
often,  it  is  true,  under  great  provocation,  but  oh, 
what  would  he  not  now  have  given  to  recall 
them. 

He  had  much  ado  to  control  his  emotion  suffi- 
ciently to  ask  the  doctor  what  he  thought  of  her 
case.     He  was  somewhat  comforted  by  the  reply, 

"  The  injury  to  the  head  is  very  serious,  yet  I  by 
no  means  despair  of  her  life." 

"  What  can  I  do  for  her?  "  was  the  boy's  next 
question  in  an  imploring  tone  as  though  he  would 
esteem  it  a  boon  to  be  permitted  to  do  something 
for  her  relief. 

"  Nothing  ;  we  have  plenty  of  help  here,  and 
you  are  too  inexperienced  for  a  nurse,"  Dr.  Barton 
said,  not  unkindly.  "  But  see  to  your  sister  Molly," 
he  added.     "  Poor  child  !   she  will  feel  this  sorely." 

The  admonition  was  quite  superfluous;  Dick 
was  already  hastening  to  her. 


136  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

Another  moment  and  she  was  weeping  out  her 
sorrow  and  anxiety  on  his  shoulder. 

"  O  Dick,"  she  sobbed,  "I'm  afraid  I  can  never 
speak  to  her  again,  and — and  my  last  words  to  her, 
just  before  she  went,  were  a  reproach.  I  said  I'd 
never  ask  her  for  sympathy  again ;  and  now  I 
never  can.  Oh  isn't  it  dreadful,  dreadful  !  "  and 
she  wept  as  if  her  very  heart  would  break. 

"Oh,  don't,  Molly  !  "  he  said  hoarsely,  pressing 
her  closer  to  him  and  mingling  his  tears  with  hers, 
"who  could  blame  you,  you  poor  suffering  thing  I 
and  I'm  sure  you  must  have  been  provoked  to  it. 
She  hadn't  been  saying  anything  kind  to  you?  " 

Molly  shook  her  head  with  a  fresh  burst  of  grief. 
"  No,  oh  no  !  oh,  if  we'd  parted  like  Cousin  Elsie 
and  her  children  always  do  ! — with  kind,  loving 
words  and  caresses." 

"But  we're  not  that  sort,  you  know,"  returned 
Dick  with  an  awkward  attempt  at  consolation, 
"and  I'm  worse  than  you,  a  great  deal,  for  I've 
talked  up  to  mother  many  a  time  and  didn't  have 
the  same  excuse." 

There  was  sickness  at  Pinegrove.  Mrs.  Howard 
was  slowly  recovering  from  an  attack  of  typhoid 
fever.  This  was  why  she  had  not  hastened  to 
Roselands  to  the  assistance  of  her  injured  father 
and  sister. 

And  Mrs.  Rose  Dinsmore  was  at  Ashlands,  help- 
ing Sophie  nurse  her  children  through  the  scarlet 
fever.     And  so,  Mrs.   Conly  being  still  absent  at 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  137 

the  North,  the  burden  of  these  new  responsibilities 
must  fall  upon  Mr.  Horace  Dinsmore  and  his  chil- 
dren. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  undertook  the  care  of  his  father, 
Mr.  Travilla  and  young  Horace  engaging  to  relieve 
him  now  and  then,  Elsie  that  of  Enna ;  her  chil- 
dren, except  the  baby,  who  with  mammy  must 
come  to  Roselands  also,  could  do  without  her  for  a 
time.  It  would  be  hard  for  both  her  and  them, 
she  knew,  but  the  lesson  in  self-denial  for  the  sake 
of  others,  might  prove  more  than  a  compensation  ; 
and  Enna  must  not,  in  her  critical  state,  be  left  to 
the  care  of  servants. 

Rosie  volunteered  to  see  that  Molly  was  not 
neglected,  and  to  exert  herself  for  the  poor  girl's 
entertainment,  and  Bob  and  Betty  were  sent  to  the 
Oaks  to  be  looked  after  by  Mrs.  Murray  and  their 
cousin  Horace. 

It  would  be  no  easy  or  agreeable  task  for  the  old 
lady,  but  she  was  sure  not  to  object  in  view  of  the 
fact  that  quiet  was  essential  to  the  recovery  of  the 
sufferers  at  Roselands. 


CHAPTER  FIFTEENTH. 

"  Great  minds,  like  heaven,  are  pleased  in  doing  good, 
Though  the  ungrateful  subjects  of  their  favors 
Are  barren  in  return." 

— Rowe. 

The  short  winter  day  was  closing  in.  At  Ion,, 
five  eager,  expectant  little  faces  were  looking  out 
upon  the  avenue,  where  slowly  and  softly,  tiny 
snowflakes  were  falling,  the  only  moving  thing 
within  range  of  their  vision. 

"Oh,  dear,  what  does  keep  papa  and  mamma 
so  long  !  "  cried  Vi,  impatiently;  "it  seems  most 
like  a  year  since  they  started." 

"  Oh,  no,  Vi,  not  half  a  day  yet !  " 

"  I  don't  mean  it  is,  Eddie,  but  it  does  seem 
like  it  to  me.  Elsie,  do  you  think  anything's  hap- 
pened ? ' ' 

"  One  of  the  horses  may  have  lost  a  shoe,"  Elsie 
said,  trying  to  be  very  cheerful,  and  putting  her 
arm  round  Violet  as  she  spoke.  "  I  remember 
that  happened  once  a  good  while  ago.  But  if 
mamma  were  here,  don't  you  know  what  she  would 
say,  little  sister?  " 

"  Yes  ;   '  don't  fret ;  don't  meet  trouble  half  way, 
but  trust  in  God,  our  Father,  who  loves  us  so  dearly, 
that  he  will  never  let  any  real  harm  come  to  us.'  " 
133 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  139 

"I  think  our  mamma  is  very  wise,"  remarked 
Eddie;  "so  very  much  wiser  than  Aunt  Lucy, 
who  gets  frightened  at  every  little  thing." 

"Oh,  Eddie  dear,  would  mamma  or  papa  like 
that  ?  "  said  Elsie  softly. 

"  Well,  it's  true,"  he  said  reddening. 

"But  they've  both  told  us  that  unkind  remarks 
should  not  be  made  even  if  true  :  unless  it  is  quite 
necessary." 

"Oh,  why  don't  papa  and  mamma  come?" 
"Oh,  I  wis  dey  would  !  I  so  tired  watchin'  for 
'em  !  "  burst  out  Harold  and  Herbert,  nearly 
ready  to  cry. 

"Look!  look!"  cried  the  others  in  chorus, 
'•they  are  coming,  the  carriage  is  just  turning  in 
at  the  gate  !  " 

But  it  was  growing  so  dark  now,  and  the  tiny  flakes 
were  coming  down  so  thick  and  fast,  that  none  of 
them  were  quite  sure  the  carriage  was  their  own,  until 
it  drew  up  before  the  door,  and  two  dear  familiar 
forms  alighted  and  came  up  the  veranda  steps. 

They  were  greeted  with  as  joyous  a  welcome  as 
if  they  had  been  absent  for  weeks  or  months,  and 
returned  the  sweet  caresses  as  lovingly  as  they  were 
bestowed,  smiling  tenderly  upon  each  darling  of 
their  hearts. 

But  almost  instantly  little  Elsie  perceived  some- 
thing unusual  in  the  sweet,  fair  face  she  loved  so 
dearly,  and  was  wont  to  study  with  such  fond, 
tender  scrutiny. 


140  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"Mamma,  dear  mamma,  what  is  wrong?  "  she 
asked. 

"A  sad  accident,  daughter/'  Elsie  answered, 
her  voice  faltering  with  emotion,  "  poor  grandpa 
and  Aunt  Enna  have  been  badly  hurt." 

"Our  dear  grandpa,  mamma?"  they  all  asked, 
lips  and  voices  tremulous  with  grief. 

"No,  darlings,  not  my  own  dear  father,"  the 
mother  answered,  with  a  heart  full  of  gratitude 
that  it  was  not  he,  "but  our  poor  old  grandfather 
who  lives  at  Roselands." 

"  My  dear  little  wife,  you  are  too  much  over- 
come to  talk  any  more  just  now,"  Mr.  Travilla 
said,  wheeling  an  easy-chair  to  the  fire,  seating  her 
in  it,  and  removing  her  hat  and  cloak,  with  all  the 
tender  gallantry  of  the  days  when  he  wooed  and 
won  his  bride;  "let  me  tell  it."  He  took  a  seat 
near  her  side,  lifted  "bit  Herbie  "  to  his  knee,  and 
with  the  others  gathered  close  about  him,  briefly 
told  how  the  accident  had  happened,  and  that  he 
and  their  mother  had  met  a  messenger  coming  to 
acquaint  them  with  the  disaster,  and  summon  them 
to  Roselands  ;  then  gave  the  children  some  idea  of 
the  present  situation  of  their  injured  relations. 

When  he  had  finished,  and  his  young  hearers 
had  expressed  their  sorrow  and  sympathy  for  the 
sufferers,  a  moment  of  silence  ensued,  broken  by 
kittle  Elsie. 

"  Mamma,  who  will  take  care  of  them  ?  " 

"  God,"  said  Herbert,  "won't  he,  papa?" 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  141 

"  But  I  mean  who  will  nurse  them  while  they 
are  sick,"  said  Eisie. 

"  My  father  will  take  care  of  grandpa,"  Mrs. 
Travilla  answered,  "  Uncle  Horace  and  papa  help- 
ing when  needed." 

"  And  Aunt  Enna,  mamma?  " 

"  Well,  daughter,  who  do  you  think  should  nurse 
her  ?  Aunt  Louise  is  away,  Aunt  Lora  sick  her- 
self, grandma  at  Ashlands  with  Aunt  Sophie  and 
her  sick  children." 

"  Oh,  mamma,  it  won't  have  to  be  you,  will 
it  ?  "  the  child  asked  almost  imploringly. 

"Oh,  mamma,  no;  how  could  we  do  without 
you?"  chimed  in  the  others,  Herbert  adding  tear- 
fully, "Mamma  stay  wis  us;  we  tan't  do  wisout 
you." 

They  left  their  father  to  cluster  about  and  cling 
to  her,  with  caresses  and  entreaties. 

"My  darlings,"  she  said,  returning  their  endear- 
ments, "can  you  not  feel  willing  to  spare  your 
mother  for  a  little  while  to  poor,  suffering  Aunt 
Enna?  " 

"  Mamma,  they  have  plenty  of  servants." 

"  Yes,  Vi,  but  she  is  so  very  ill  that  we  cannot 
hope  she  will  get  well  without  more  careful,  tender 
nursing  than  any  servant  would  give  her." 

"Mamma,  it  will  be  very  hard  to  do  without 
you." 

'•And  very  hard  for  me  to  stay  away  from  my 
dear  children  ;   but  what  does  the  Bible  say  ?     Seek 


142  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

your  own  pleasure  and  profit,  and  let  others  take 
care  of  themselves  ?  " 

"  Oh,  mamma,  no  !  '  Thou  shalt  love  thy 
neighbor  as  thyself.'  " 

"'Do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,'"  quoted 
Eddie  in  an  undertone. 

"  But  we  were  not  speaking  of  enemies,  my  son," 
his  mother  said  in  surprise. 

"I  think  Aunt  Enna  is  your  enemy,  mamma;  I 
think  she  hates  you,"  he  said,  with  flashing  eyes, 
"for  I've  many  a  time  heard  her  say  very  hateful 
things  to  you.  Mamma,  don't  look  so  sorry  at 
me ;  how  can  I  help  being  angry  at  people  that  say 
unkind  things  to  you  ?  ' ' 

"'Forgive,  and  you  shall  be  forgiven,'"  she 
said  gently.  "'Do  good  and  lend.'  Can't  you 
lend  your  mother  for  a  few  weeks,  dears?  " 

"Weeks,  mamma!  oh,  so  long!"  they  cried. 
"  How  can  we  ?  who  will  take  care  of  us,  and  hear 
our  lessons  and  teach  us  to  be  good? '' 

"Dinah  will  wash  and  dress  you,  Elsie  help  you 
little  ones  to  learn  your  lessons,  and  I  think  papa," 
looking  at  him,  "will  hear  you  recite." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  smiling  on  them,  "we  will 
do  our  best,  so  that  dear  mamma  may  not  be 
anxious  and  troubled  about  us  in  addition  to 
all  the  care  and  anxiety  for  the  suffering  ones  at 
Roselands." 

"  Yes,  papa,"  they  answered,  returning  his  smile 
half  tearfully ;  then  questioned  their  mother  as  to 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  143 

when  she  must  go,  and  whether  they  should  see 
her  at  all  while  Aunt  Enna  was  sick. 

1 '  I  can  wait  only  long  enough  to  take  supper 
with  you,  and  have  our  talk  together  afterward," 
she  said,  "because  I  am  needed  at  Roselands. 
Perhaps  papa  will  bring  you  there  sometimes  to  see 
me  for  a  little  while  if  you  will  be  very  quiet.  And 
it  may  be  only  for  a  few  days  that  I  shall  be  wanted 
there;  we  cannot  tell  about  that  yet." 

She  spoke  cheerfully,  but  it  cost  her  an  effort  be- 
cause of  the  grieved,  troubled  looks  on  the  dear 
little  faces. 

"But  baby,  mamma!"  cried  Vi,  "baby  can't 
do  without  you  !  " 

"No,  dear,  she  and  mammy  will  have  to  go 
with  me." 

They  were  not  the  usual  merry  party  at  the  tea- 
table,  and  a  good  many  tears  were  shed  during  the 
talk  with  mamma  afterward. 

They  all  consented  to  her  going,  but  the  parting 
with  her,  and  the  thought  of  doing  without  her  for 
"so  long"  were  the  greatest  trials  they  had  ever 
known. 

She  saw  all  the  younger  ones  in  bed,  kissed  each 
one  good-night,  and  reminding  them  that  their 
heavenly  Father  was  always  with  them,  and  that 
she  would  not  be  too  far  away  to  come  at  once  to 
them  if  needed,  she  left  them  to  their  sleep. 

Elsie  followed  her  mother  to  her  dressing-room, 
and  watched  for  every  opportunity  to  assist  in  her 


144  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

preparations  for  her  absence.  They  were  not 
many,  and  with  some  parting  injunctions  to  this 
little  daughter  and  the  servants,  she  announced  her- 
self ready  to  go. 

Elsie  clung  to  her  with  tears  at  the  last,  as  they 
stood  together  in  the  lower  hall  waiting  for  the 
others. 

"Mamma,  what  shall  I  do  without  you ?  I've 
never  been  away  from  you  a  whole  day  in  all  my 
life." 

''No,  dearest,  but  be  my  brave,  helpful  little 
girl.  You  must  try  to  fill  mother's  place  to  the  lit- 
tle ones.  I  shall  not  be  far  away,  you  know,  and 
your  dear  father  will  be  here  nearly  all  the  time. 
And  don't  forget,  darling,  that  your  best  Friend  is 
always  with  you." 

"No,  mamma,"  said  the  child,  smiling  through 
her  tears;  "  it  is  so  sweet  to  know  that ;  and  please 
don't  trouble  about  us  at  home.  I'll  do  my  best 
for  papa  and  the  children." 

"That  is  right,  daughter,  you  are  a  very  great 
comfort  to  me  now  and  always,"  the  mother  said, 
with  a  last  caress,  as  her  husband  joined  her  and 
gave  her  his  arm  to  lead  her  to  the  carriage. 

"Don't  come  out  in  the  cold,  daughter,"  he 
said,  seeing  the  child  about  to  follow. 

Mammy  had  just  come  down  with  the  sleeping 
babe  in  her  arms,  warmly  wrapped  up  to  shield  her 
from  the  cold. 

Elsie  sprang  to  her  side,  lifted  the  veil  that  cov- 


ELSJE'S  CHILDREN.  145 

cred  the  little  face,  and  softly  touched  her  lips  to 
the  delicate  cheek.  "  Good-bye,  baby  darling. 
Oh,  mammy,  we'll  miss  her  sadly  and  you  too." 

"  Don't  fret,  honey,  'spect  we  all  be  comin'  back 
soon,"  Aunt  Chloe  whispered,  readjusting  the  veil, 
and  hurrying  after  her  mistress. 

Elsie  flew  to  the  window,  and  watched  the  car- 
riage roll  away  down  the  avenue,  till  lost  to  sight 
in  the  darkness,  tears  trembling  in  her  eyes,  but  a 
thrill  of  joy  mingling  with  her  grief:  "it  was  so 
sweet  to  be  a  comfort  and  help  to  dear  mamma." 

She  set  herself  to  considering  how  she  might  be 
the  same  to  her  father  and  brothers  and  sister; 
what  she  could  do  now. 

She  remembered  that  her  father  was  very  fond 
of  music  and  that  her  mother  often  played  and 
sang  for  him  in  the  evenings.  He  had  said  he 
would  probably  return  in  an  hour,  and  going  to  the 
piano  she  spent  the  intervening  time  in  the  diligent 
practice  of  a  new  piece  of  music  he  had  brought 
her  a  day  or  two  before. 

At  sound  of  the  carriage  wheels  she  ran  to  meet 
him,  her  face  bright  with  welcoming  smiles. 

"My  little  sunbeam,"  he  said  taking  her  in  his 
arms;  "you  have  been  nothing  but  a  comfort  and 
blessing  to  your  mother  and  me,  since  the  day  you 
were  born." 

"  Dear  papa,  how  kind  in  you  to  tell  me  that !  " 
she  said,  her  cheek  flushing  and  her  eyes  glistening 
with  pleasure. 


146  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

He  kept  her  with  him  till  after  her  usual  hour 
for  retiring,  listening  to,  and  praising  her  music  and 
talking  with  her  quite  as  if  she  were  fit  to  be  a  com- 
panion for  him. 

Both  the  injured  ones  were  very  ill  for  some 
weeks,  but  by  means  of  competent  medical  advice 
and  careful  nursing,  their  lives  were  saved;  yet 
neither  recovered  entirely  from  the  effects  of  the 
accident.  Mr.  Dinsmore  was  feeble  and  ailing, 
and  walked  with  a  limp  for  the  rest  of  his  days, 
and  Enna,  though  her  bodily  health  was  quite 
restored,  rose  from  her  bed  with  an  impaired  in- 
tellect, her  memory  gone,  her  reasoning  powers 
scarcely  equal  to  those  of  an  ordinary  child  of  five 
or  six. 

She  did  not  recognize  her  children,  or  indeed 
any  one ;  she  had  everything  to  relearn  and  went 
back  to  childish  amusements,  dolls,  baby-houses 
and  other  toys. 

The  sight  was  inexpressibly  painful  to  Dick  and 
Molly,  far  worse  than  following  her  to  her  grave. 

She  remained  at  her  father's,  a  capable  and 
kind  woman  being  provided  to  take  constant 
charge  of  her,  while  Bob  and  Betty  stayed  on  at 
the  Oaks,  their  uncle  and  aunt  bringing  them  up 
with  all  the  care  and  kindness  bestowed  upon  their 
own  children ;  and  Dick  and  Molly  made  their 
home  at  Ion. 

The  latter  was  removed  thither  as  soon  as  the 
danger  to  her  mother's  life  was  past,  the  change 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REA7.  147 

being  considered  only  temporary  at  the  time; 
though  afterward  it  was  decided  to  make  it  per- 
manent, in  accordance  with  the  kind  and  generous 
invitation  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Travilla  to  her  and  her 
brother,  and  their  offer  to  become  responsible  for 
the  education  and  present  support  of  both. 

Little  Elsie,  bravely  and  earnestly  striving  to  fill 
her  mother's  place  in  the  household,  making  her- 
self companionable  to  her  father,  helping  Eddie, 
Vi  and  Harold  with  their  lessons,  comforting 
Herbie  when  his  baby  heart  ached  so  sorely  with 
its  longing  for  mamma,  and  in  all  his  little  griefs  and 
troubles,  and  settling  the  slight  differences  that 
would  sometimes  arise  between  the  children  or  the 
sen-ants,  found  Molly  an  additional  burden ;  for 
she  too  must  be  cheered  and  consoled  and  was 
often  fretful,  unreasonable  and  exacting. 

Still  the  little  girl  struggled  on,  now  feebly  and 
almost  ready  to  despair,  now  with  renewed  hope 
and  courage  gathered  from  an  interview  with  her 
earthly  or  her  heavenly  Father. 

Mr.  Travilla  was  very  proud  of  the  womanly 
way  in  which  she  acquitted  herself  at  this  time,  her 
diligence,  utter  unselfishness,  patience,  and  thought- 
fulness  for  others,  and  did  not  withhold  the  meed  of 
well  earned  praise ;  this  with  hisadvice  and  sympathy 
did  much  to  enable  her  to  persevere  to  the  end. 

But  oh  what  relief  and  joy  when  at  last  the  dear 
mother  was  restored  to  them  and  the  unaccustomed 
burden  lifted  from  the  young  shoulders! 


148  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

It  would  have  been  impossible  to  say  who  re- 
joiced most  heartily  in  the  reunion,  father,  mother 
or  children.  But  every  heart  leaped  lightly,  every 
face  was  bright  with  smiles. 

Mrs.  Travilla  knew  she  was  adding  greatly  to 
her  cares,  and  to  the  annoyances  and  petty  trials  of 
every  day  life,  in  taking  Dick  and  especially  Molly 
into  her  family,  but  she  realized  it  more  and  more 
as  the  months  and  years  rolled  on  ;  both  had  been 
so  spoiled  by  Enna's  unwise  and  capricious  treat- 
ment, that  it  was  a  difficult  thing  to  control  them ; 
and  poor  Molly's  sad  affliction  caused  her  frequent 
fits  of  depression  which  rendered  her  a  burden  to 
herself  and  to  others ;  also  she  inherited  to  some 
extent,  her  mother's  infirmities  of  temper,  and  her 
envy,  jealousy  and  unreasonableness  made  her 
presence  in  the  family  a  trial  to  her  young  cousins. 

The  mother  had  to  teach  patience,  meekness  and 
forbearance  by  precept  and  example,  ever  holding 
up  as  the  grand  motive,  love  to  Jesus,  and  a  desire 
to   please  and  honor  him. 

Such  constant  sowing  of  the  good  seed,  such 
patient,  careful  weeding  out  of  the  tares,  such 
watchfulness  and  prayerfulness  as  Elsie  bestowed 
upon  the  children  God  had  given  her,  could  not 
fail  of  their  reward  from  him  who  has  said, 
"  Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also 
reap  ' ' ;  and  as  the  years  rolled  on  she  had  the  un- 
speakable joy  of  seeing  her  darlings  one  after 
another  gathered  into  the  fold  of  the  Good  Shep- 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  149 

herd ; — consecrating  themselves  in  the  dew  of 
their  youth  to  the  service  of  him  who  had  loved 
them  and  washed  them  from  their  sins  in  his  own 
blood. 

She  was  scarcely  less  earnest  and  persistent  in 
her  efforts  to  promote  the  welfare,  temporal  and 
spiritual,  of  Molly  and  Dick.  She  far  more  than 
supplied  the  place  of  the  mother  now  almost  worse 
than  lost  to  them. 

They  had  always  liked  and  respected  her  ;  they 
soon  learned  to  love  her  dearly  and  grew  happier 
and  more  lovable  under  the  refining,  elevating  in- 
fluence of  her  conduct  and  conversation. 

She  and  her  husband  gave  to  both  the  best 
advantages  for  education  that  money  could  pro- 
cure, aroused  in  them  the  desire,  and  stimulated 
them  to  earnest  efforts  to  become  useful  members 
of  society. 

Elsie  soon  discovered  that  one  grand  element  of 
Molly's  depression  was  the  thought  that  she  was 
cut  off  from  all  the  activities  of  life  and  doomed, 
by  her  sad  affliction,  to  be  a  useless  burden  upon 
others. 

"  My  poor  dear  child  !  "  she  said  clasping  the 
weeping  girl  in  her  arms,  "  that  would  be  a  sad 
fate  indeed,  but  it  need  not  be  yours;  there  are 
many  walks  of  usefulness  still  open  to  you  ;  lit- 
erature, several  of  the  arts  and  sciences,  music, 
painting,  authorship ;  to  say  nothing  of  needle 
work  both  plain   and  fancy.     The  first  thing  will 


150  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

be  a  good  education  in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of 
the  term — and  that  you  can  take  as  easily  as  one 
who  has  use  of  all  her  limbs.  Books  and  masters 
shall  be  at  your  command,  and  when  you  have 
decided  to  what  employment  you  will  especially 
devote  yourself,  every  facility  shall  be  given  you  for 
perfecting  yourself  in  it." 

"O  Cousin  Elsie,"  cried  the  girl,  her  eyes 
shining,  "do  you  think  I  could  ever  write  books, 
or  paint  pictures  ?  I  mean  such  as  would  be  really 
worth  the  doing ;  such  as  would  make  Dick  proud 
of  me  and  perhaps  give  me  money  to  help  him  with  ; 
because  you  know  the  poor  fellow  must  make  his 
own  way  in  the  world." 

"  I  scarcely  know  how  to  answer  that  question," 
Elsie  said,  smiling  at  her  sudden  enthusiasm,  "but 
I  do  know  that  patience  and  perseverance  will  do 
wonders,  and  if  you  practice  them  faithfully,  it  will 
not  surprise  me  to  see  you  some  day  turn  out  a  great 
author  or  artist. 

"But  don't  fret  because  Dick  has  not  a  fortune 
to  begin  with.  Our  very  noblest  and  most  success- 
ful men  have  been  those  who  had  to  win  their  way 
by  dint  of  hard  and  determined  struggling  with 
early  disadvantages.  '  Young  trees  root  the  faster 
for  shaking  !  '  "  she  added  with  a  smile. 

"  Oh  then  Dick  will  succeed,  I  know,  dear, 
noble  fellow  !  ' '  cried  Molly  flushing  with  sisterly 
pride. 

From  that  time  she  took  heart  and  though  there 


ELSrE'S  CHILDREN.  151 

were  occasional  returns  of  despondency  and  gloom 
she  strove  to  banish  them  and  was  upon  the  whole, 
brave,  cheerful  and  energetic  in  carrying  out  the 
plans  her  cousin  had  suggested. 


CHAPTER  SIXTEENTH. 

"  It  is  as  if  the  night  should  shade  noonday, 
Or  that  the  sun  was  here,  but  forced  away ; 
And  we  were  left,  under  that  hemisphere, 
Where  we  must  feel  it  dark  for  half  a  year." 

— Ben.  Johnson. 

Since  the  events  recorded  in  our  last  chapter, 
six  years  have  rolled  their  swift,  though  noiseless 
round,  ere  we  look  in  upon  our  friends  again ;  six 
years  bringing  such  changes  as  they  must ; — growth 
and  development  to  the  very  young,  a  richer  ma- 
turity, a  riper  experience  to  those  who  had  already 
attained  to  adult  life,  and  to  the  aged,  increasing 
infirmities,  reminding  them  that  their  race  is  nearly 
run  ;  it  may  be  so  with  others ;  it  must  be  so  with 
them. 

There  have  been  gains  and  losses,  sickness  and 
other  afflictions,  but  death  has  not  yet  entered  any 
of  their  homes. 

At  Ion,  the  emerald,  velvety  lawn,  the  grand  old 
trees,  the  sparkling  lakelet,  the  flower  gardens  and 
conservatories  gay  with  rich  autumn  hues,  were 
looking  their  loveliest,  in  the  light  of  a  fair  Sep- 
tember morning. 

The  sun  was  scarcely  an  hour  high,  and  except 

*52 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  153 

in  the  region  of  the  kitchen  and  stables  quiet 
reigned  within  and  without  the  mansion ;  doors  and 
windows  stood  wide  open,  and  servants  were  busied 
here  and  there  cleaning  and  setting  in  order  for  the 
day,  but  without  noise  or  bustle.  In  the  avenue 
before  the  front  entrance,  stood  Solon  with  the 
pretty  grey  ponies,  Prince  and  Princess,  ready  sad- 
dled and  bridled,  while  on  the  veranda  sat  a  tall, 
dark-eyed,  handsome  youth,  a  riding  whip  in  one 
hand,  the  other  gently  stroking  and  patting  the 
head  of  Bruno,  as  it  rested  on  his  knee  ;  the  dog 
receiving  the  caress  with  demonstrations  of  de- 
light. 

A  light,  springing  step  passed  down  the  broad 
stairway,  crossed  the  hall,  and  a  slender  fairy-like 
form  appeared  in  the  doorway.  It  was  Violet,  now 
thirteen,  and  already  a  woman  in  height ;  though 
the  innocent  childlike  trust  in  the  sweet  fair  face 
and  azure  eyes,  told  another  tale. 

"Good-morning,  Eddie,"  she  said.  "I  am 
sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting." 

'•Oh,  good-morning,"  he  cried,  jumping  up  and 
turning  toward  her.  "No  need  for  apology,  Vi, 
I've  not  been  here  over  five  minutes." 

He  handed  her  gallantly  to  the  saddle,  then 
mounted  himself. 

"  Try  to  cheer  up,  little  sister  ;  one  should  not  be 
sad  such  a  lovely  morning  as  this,"  he  said,  as  they 
trotted  down  the  avenue  side  by  side. 

"Oh,  Eddie,"  she  answered,  with   tears  in  her 


154  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

voice,  "  I  do  try,  but  I  can't  yet ;  it  isn't  like  home 
without  them." 

"No;  no  indeed,  Vi;  how  could  it  be?  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Daly  are  very  kind,  yet  not  in  the  least 
like  our  father  and  mother ;  but  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  any  one  to  take  their  places  in  our 
hearts  or  home." 

"The  only  way  to  feel  at  all  reconciled,  is  to 
keep  looking  forward  to  the  delight  of  seeing  them 
return  with  our  darling  Lily  well  and  strong,  "  Vi 
said,  struggling  bravely  with  her  tears ;  and  Eddie 
answered,  "I  cannot  help  hoping  that  may  be,  in 
spite  of  all  the  discouraging  things  the  doctors  have 
said." 

Lily,  always  frail  and  delicate,  had  drooped 
more  and  more  during  the  past  year,  and  only 
yesterday  the  parents  had  left  with  her  for  the 
North,  intending  to  try  the  effect  of  different  water- 
ing places,  in  the  faint  hope  that  the  child  might 
yet  be  restored  to  health,  or  her  life  at  least  be  pro- 
longed for  a  few  years. 

They  had  taken  with  them  their  eldest  daughter, 
and  infant  son,  and  several  servants. 

Aunt  Chloe  and  Uncle  Joe  were  not  of  the 
party,  increasing  infirmities  compelling  them  to 
stay  behind. 

The  separation  from  her  idolized  mistress,  cost 
the  former  many  tears,  but  she  was  much  com- 
forted by  Elsie's  assurance,  that  to  have  her  at 
home  to  watch  over  the  children  there,  would  be 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  155 

a.  great   comfort  and  relief  from  anxiety  on  their 
account. 

It  had  seemed  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Travilla,  a  very- 
kind  Providence  that  had  sent  them  an  excellent 
tutor  and  housekeeper,  in  the  persons  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Daly,  their  former  guests  at  Viamede. 

Since  the  winter  spent  together  there,  an  occa- 
sional correspondence  had  been  kept  up  between 
the  two  families,  and  learning  from  it,  that  Mr. 
Daly  was  again  in  need  of  a  change  of  climate,  and 
that,  just  as  they  were  casting  about  for  some  suit- 
able persons  to  take  charge  of  their  house  and 
children  during  their  contemplated  absence  from 
home,  Elsie  suggested  to  her  husband  that  the 
situations  should  be  offered  to  him  and  his 
wife. 

Mr.  Travilla  approved,  the  offer  was  made  at 
once,  and  promptly  and  thankfully  accepted. 

Frank  Daly,  now  a  fine  lad  of  eleven,  was  in- 
vited to  come  with  his  parents,  and  to  share  his 
father's  instructions. 

They  had  now  been  in  the  house  for  more  than  a 
week,  and  seemed  eminently  suited  to  the  duties 
they  had  undertaken  ;  yet  home  was  sadly  changed 
to  the  children,  deprived  for  the  first  time  in  their 
lives  of  the  parents  whom  they  so  dearly  loved,  and 
who  so  thoroughly  understood  and  sympathized 
with  them. 

Eddie  was  growing  very  manly,  was  well  ad- 
vanced in  his  studies,  easy  and  polished  in  man- 


156  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

ner,  and  Vi  and  the  younger  ones  looked  up  to  him 
with  pride  and  respect,  as  the  big  brother  who 
knew  a  great  deal,  and  in  papa's  absence  would  be 
their  leader  and  protector. 

He,  on  his  part  was  fond  and  proud  of  them  all, 
but  more  especially  of  Elsie  and  Vi,  who  grew 
daily  in  beauty  and  grace. 

"  You  can't  think  how  sorely  I  have  missed  Elsie 
this  morning,"  Vi  said,  breaking  a  slight  pause  in 
their  talk,  "and  yet  I  am  glad  she  went  too,  she 
will  be  such  a  comfort  to  mamma  and  Lily ;  and 
she  promised  me  to  write  every  day;  which  of 
course  mamma  could  not  find  time  to  do." 

' '  Yes ;  and  her  absence  will  give  you  an  oppor- 
tunity for  practice  in  that  line,  and  in  being  motherly 
to  Rosie,"  Eddie  said  with  a  smile. 

"To  Herbie  too,"  she  answered;  "we  are  to 
meet  in  mamma's  dressing-room  every  morning  just 
as  usual,  only  it  will  be  a  strange  half  hour  without 
mamma ;  but  we  will  say  our  texts  to  each  other, 
talk  them  over  and  read  together." 

"Yes,  I  promised  mamma  that  I  would  be  with 
you.  Which  way  now?"  he  asked,  as  they  came 
to  the  crossroads. 

"To  the  Oaks.  I  want  to  see  grandpa.  A 
caress,  or  even  a  word  or  smile  from  him,  would 
do  me  good  this  morning." 

"He  may  not  be  up." 

"  But  I  think  he  will ;  you  know  he  likes  to  keep 
early  hours." 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  157 

Mr.  Dinsmore  was  up  and  pacing  the  veranda 
thoughtfully  to  and  fro,  as  the  young  riders  came 
in  sight. 

He  welcomed  them  with  a  smile,  and  lifting  Vi 
from  her  pony,  held  her  close  to  his  heart  as  some- 
thing very  dear  and  precious. 

"My  darling,"  he  said,  "your  face  is  sad  this 
morning  ;  and  no  wonder.  Yet  cheer  up,  we  will 
hope  to  see  our  dear  travelers  at  home  again  in  a 
few  weeks,  our  poor  fading  flower  restored  to  bloom 
and  beauty." 

He  made  them  sit  down  and  regale  themselves: 
with  some  fine  fresh  oranges,  which  he  summoned 
a  servant  to  bring ;  their  grandma,  aunt  and  uncle 
joined  them  presently  and  they  were  urged  to  stay 
to  breakfast,  but  declined.  "  The  little  ones  must 
not  be  left  alone  this  first  morning  without  papa  and 
mamma." 

On  their  return  Rosie,  a  merry,  healthy,  romp- 
ing child  of  five,  with  a  rich  creamy  complexion, 
dark  hair  and  eyes,  forming  a  strong  contrast  to 
Vi's  blonde  beauty,  came  bounding  to  meet 
them. 

"  O,  Vi,  I've  been  wanting  you  !  you'll  have 
to  be  mamma  to  us  now,  you  know,  till  our  real 
own  mamma  conies  back.  And,  Eddie,  you'll 
have  to  be  the  papa.  Won't  he,  Vi  ?  Come, 
let's  all  go  to  mamma's  dress-room;  my  verse  is 
ready." 

"  What  is  your  text,  Rosie  ?  "  Violet  asked  when 


158  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

they  had  reached  the  room,  sitting  down  and  draw- 
ing the  child  to  her  side. 

"Take  me  on  your  lap  like  mamma  does  and  I'll 
say  it." 

"Now  then,"  Vi  said,  complying  with  the 
request. 

"  '  When  my  father  and  my  mother  forsake  me 
then  the  Lord  will  take  me  up.'  " 

"Who  taught  you  that,  pet?  "  asked  Vi,  with  a 
slight  tremble  in  her  low  sweet  tones. 

"  Cousin  Molly.  I  was  crying  for  mamma  and 
papa  and  she  called  me  in  there  and  told  me  I 
mustn't  cry,  'cause  Jesus  loves  me  and  will  never, 
never  go  away  from  me. ' ' 

"  That's  like  my  text,"  said  Herbert.  "  Mamma 
gave  it  to  me  for  to-day.  '  I  will  never  leave  thee, 
nor  forsake  thee.'  " 

"And  mine,"  said  Harold,  "'Lo,  I  am  with 
you  always,  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world.'  " 

"'This  God  is  our  God  forever  and  ever ;  he 
will  be  our  guide  even  unto  death,'  "  repeated  Vj. 
feelingly. 

"  That's  a  nice  one,"  said  Rosie. 

"  Yes,"  said  Eddie,  "and  this  is  a  nice  one  for 
us  to  remember  just  now  in  connection  with  the 
dear  ones  on  their  journey,  and  for  ourselves  when 
we  go  away.  Yes,  now,  and  at  all  times.  '  Be- 
hold I  am  with  thee,  and  will  keep  thee  in  all 
places  whither  thou  goest,  and  will  bring  thee  again 
into  this  land.'  " 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  159 

"Isn't  the  Bible  the  sweetest  book  !  "  exclaimed 
Vi,  "  the  Book  of  books  ;  it  has  a  comforting  word 
for  everybody  and  every  time  of  need." 

The  breakfast  bell  rang. 

"  Oh,  dear  !  "  cried  Rosie  clinging  to  Violet,  her 
bosom  heaving  with  sobs,  "how  can  we  go  to  the 
table  and  eat  without  papa  and  mamma  !  " 

"  Don't  cry,  little  pet,  don't  cry  ;  you  know  they 
want  us  to  be  cheerful  and  make  it  pleasant  for  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Daly,"  the  others  said,  and  with  a  great 
effort  the  child  swallowed  her  sobs ;  then  wiping 
away  her  tears,  suffered  Vi  to  lead  her  down  to  the 
breakfast  room. 

Mr>.  Daly  met  them  there  with  a  smiling  face, 
and  kind  motherly  greeting.  Mr.  Daly  had  a 
pleasant  word  for  each,  and  talked  so  entertain- 
ingly all  through  the  meal,  that  they  had  scarcely 
time  for  sad  or  lonely  thoughts. 

Family  worship  followed  immediately  after  break- 
fast, as  was  the  custom  of  the  house.  Mr.  Daly's 
prayer  was  short,  comforting  them  all,  and  simple 
enough  for  even  little  Rose  to  understand. 

There  was  still  time  for  a  walk  before  school,  but 
first  Vi  went  to  Molly  to  ask  how  she  was,  and  to 
carry  her  a  letter  from  Dick  which  had  come  by  the 
morning  mail. 

Dick  was  in  Philadelphia  studying  medicine. 
He  and  Molly  corresponded  regularly  and  she 
knew  no  greater  treat  than  a  letter  from  him.  Vi 
was  glad  she  could  carry  it  to  her  this  morning,  it 


160  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

was  so  great  a  pleasure  to  be  the  bearer  of  any- 
thing so  welcome. 

There  were  no  pleasanter  or  better  furnished 
rooms  in  the  house  than  those  appropriated  to  the 
use  of  the  poor,  dependent  crippled  cousin.  Molly 
herself  tastefully  and  becomingly  dressed,  bloom- 
ing, bright  and  cheerful,  sat  in  an  invalid  chair  by 
the  open  window.  She  was  reading,  and  so  ab- 
sorbed in  her  book  that  she  did  not  hear  the  light 
step  of  her  young  relative. 

Vi  paused  in  the  doorway  a  moment,  thinking 
what  a  pretty  picture  Molly  made — with  her  intel- 
lectual countenance,  clear  complexion,  rosy  cheeks, 
bright  eyes  and  glossy  braids — framed  in  by  the 
vine-wreathed  window. 

Molly  looked  up,  and  laying  aside  her  book, 
"Ah,  Vi,  this  is  kind!"  she  said.  "Come  in, 
do ;  I'm  ever  so  glad  to  see  you." 

"And  what  of  this?"  asked  Vi,  holding  up  the 
letter. 

"Oh,  delightful!  dear  old  fellow,  to  write  so 
soon.     I  was  not  expecting  it  till  to-morrow." 

"I  knew  you'd  be  glad,"  Vi  said,  putting  it 
into  her  hand,  "  and  now  I'll  just  kiss  you  good- 
morning  and  run  away,  that  you  may  enjoy  it  fully 
before  lesson  time." 

Rosie's  voice  was  summoning  Vi.  The  children 
were  in  the  veranda  ready  for  their  morning  walk, 
waiting  only  for  "  Sister  Vi." 

"  Let's  go  to  the  Oaks,"  said  Rosie,  slipping  her 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  161 

hand  into  Vi's;  "it's  a  nice  shady  walk,  and  I 
like  to  throw  pebbles  into  the  water.  But  I'll  feed 
the  fishes  first.  See  what  a  bag  full  of  crumbs 
mammy  has  given  me." 

Violet  was  very  patient  and  indulgent  toward  the 
little  pet  sister,  yet  obliged  to  cut  short  her  sport 
with  the  pebbles  and  the  fishes,  because  the  hour 
for  lessons  drew  near. 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEENTH. 

"The  lilies  faintly  to  the  roses  yield, 
As  on  thy  lovely  cheek  they  struggling  vie, 
And  thoughts  are  in  thy  speaking  eyes  revealed. 
Pure  as  the  fount  the  prophet's  rod  unseal'd." 

— Hoffman. 

"  Dr.  Arthur  lef '  dis  for  you,  Miss  Wi'let,"  said 
one  of  the  maids,  meeting  her  young  mistress  on 
the  veranda  and  handing  her  a  note. 

"  Cousin  Arthur  ?  was  he  here  ?  " 

"Yes,  miss.  He  axed  for  you,  but  hadn't  no 
time  to  stop,  not  even  to  see  po'  Miss  Molly. 
'Spect  somebody's  mighty  sick." 

Arthur  Conly  had  entered  the  medical  profes- 
sion, and  for  the  last  two  years  had  been  practicing 
in  partnership  with  Dr.  Barton. 

Vi  glanced  over  the  note  and  hastened  to  Eddie, 
whom  she  found  in  the  schoolroom,  its  only  oc- 
cupant at  the  moment. 

"Here's  a  note  from  Isa,  asking  me  to  bring 
Rosie  and  come  to  Roselands  for  the  rest  of  the 
day,  after  lessons  are  done.  She  thinks  I  must  feel 
lonely.  It  is  very  kind,  but  what  shall  I  do  about 
it?  Rosie  would  enjoy  going,  but  would  it  be 
kind  to  you  or  the  boys,  or  Molly  ? ' ' 

"  I  might  take  the  boys  over  to  the  Oaks,  but  I 
162 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  163 

don't  know — oh,  I  think  Molly  would  probably 
prefer  solitude,  as  I  happen  to  know  that  she  has 
some  writing  to  do.  Well,  what  now?"  seeing  a 
hesitating,  perplexed  look  on  Vi's  face. 

"  I  cannot  ask  permission  of  papa  or  mamma." 

"No,  of  course  not;  we  must  go  to  Mr.  Daly 
for  that  now." 

'•I  don't  like  it,"  she  answered  coloring ;  "it 
does  seem  as  if  nobody  has  the  right  to  control 
us  except  our  father  and  mother,  and  our  grand- 
parents." 

"  Only  that  they  have  given  him  the  right  for 
the  present." 

Mr.  Daly  came  in  at  that  instant,  and  Vi,  plac- 
ing the  note  in  his  hand,  said  "  Will  you  please  to 
look  at  this,  sir,  and  tell  me  if  I  may  accept  the 
invitation?  " 

"  I  see  no  objection,"  he  said,  returning  it  with 
a  kindly  smile,  "provided  your  lessons  are  well 
recited." 

Mr.  Daly  was  an  excellent  teacher,  thoroughly 
prepared  for  his  work  by  education,  native  talent 
for  imparting  the  knowledge  he  possessed,  love  for 
the  employment  and  for  the  young  creatures  en- 
trusted to  his  care. 

The  liking  was  mutual,  and  study  hours  were 
soon  voted  only  less  enjoyable  than  when  mamma 
wa_s  their  loved  instructress. 

Molly  occupied  her  place  in  the  schoolroom  as 
regularly   as    the    others.      It    adjoined    her   apart- 


1 64  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

ments,  and  her  wheeled  chair  required  a  very- 
slight  exertion  of  strength  on  the  part  of  friend  or 
servant  to  propel  it  from  room  to  room. 

Molly  had  already  made  herself  a  very  thorough 
French  and  German  scholar,  and  was  hoping  to 
turn  her  ability  to  translate  to  good  account  in  the 
way  of  earning  her  own  support ;  for  there  was  no 
pauper  instinct  in  the  girl's  noble  nature,  and  able 
and  willing  as  her  cousin  was  to  support  her,  she 
greatly  preferred  to  earn  her  own  living,  though  at 
the  cost  of  much  wearisome  labor  of  hand  and 
brain. 

She  was  not  of  those  who  seem  to  forget  that 
the  command,  "Six  days  shalt  thou  labor  and  do 
all  thy  work,"  is  equally  binding  with  that  other, 
"  In  it  (the  seventh  day)  thou  shalt  not  do 
any  work."  This  lesson — that  industry  is  com- 
manded, idleness  forbidden — was  one  which  Elsie 
had  ever  been  careful  to  instil  into  the  minds  of 
her  children  from  their  earliest  infancy ;  nor  was 
it  enough,  she  taught  them,  that  they  should  be  do- 
ing something,  they  must  be  usefully  employed, 
remembering  that  they  were  but  stewards  who 
must  one  day  give  an  account  to  their  Lord  of  all 
they  had  done  with  the  talents  entrusted  to  them. 

"Is  Dick  well?  was  it  a  nice  letter  ?  "  Violet 
asked,  leaning  over  her  cousin's  chair  when  lessons 
were  done. 

"  Oh  very  nice  !  he's  well  and  doing  famously. 
I  must  answer  it  this  afternoon." 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  165 

'*  Then  you  will  not  care  for  company?  " 

"  Not  particularly.     Why  ?  " 

Vi  told  of  her  invitation. 

"  Go,  by  all  means,"  said  Molly.  "  You  know 
Virgy  has  a  friend  with  her,  a  Miss  Reed.  I  want 
you  to  see  her  and  tell  me  what  she's  like." 

'•I  fear  you'll  have  to  see  her  yourself  to  find 
that  out;  I'm  no  portrait  painter,"  Violet  said  with 
a  smile  as  she  ran  lightly  away  to  order  the  carriage 
and  see  to  her  own  toilet  and  Rosie's. 

They  were  simple  enough  ;  white  dresses  with 
blue  sash  and  ribbons  for  Vi,  ditto  of  pink  for 
Rosie. 

Miss  Reed,  dressed  in  a  stiff  silk  and  loaded 
with  showy  jewelry,  sat  in  the  drawing-room  at 
Roselands  in  a  bay-window  overlooking  the  avenue. 
She  was  gazing  eagerly  toward  its  entrance,  as 
though  expecting  some  one. 

"  Yes,  I've  heard  of  the  Travillas,"  she  said  in 
answer  to  a  remark  from  Virginia  Conly  who  stood 
by  her  side  almost  as  showily  attired  as  herself. 
"  I've  been  told  she  was  a  great  heiress." 

"She  was;  and  he  was  rich  too;  though  I  be- 
lieve he  lost  a  good  deal  during  the  war." 

"They  live  splendidly,  I  suppose?  " 

"They've  everything  money  can  buy,  but  are 
nearly  breaking  their  hearts  just  now,  over  one  of 
their  little  girls  who  seems  to  have  some  incurable 
disease." 

"Is   that   so?     Well,  they  ought  to  have  some 


1 66  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

trouble  as  well  as  other  folks.  I'm  sorry  though  • 
for  I'd  set  my  heart  on  being  invited  there  and  see- 
ing how  they  live." 

"  Oh  they're  all  gone  away  except  Vi  and  Rosie 
and  the  boys.  But  may  be  Vi  will  ask  us  there  to 
dinner  or  tea.     Ah  here  they  come  !  " 

"  What  splendid  match  horses  !  what  an  elegant 
carriage  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Reed,  as  a  beautiful 
barouche,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  fine  bays,  came 
bowling  up  the  avenue. 

"  Yes,  they've  come,  it's  the  Ion  carriage." 

"But  that's  a  young  lady  Pomp's  handing  out 
of  it  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Reed  the  next  moment, 
"and  I  thought  you  said  it  was  only  two  children 
you  expected." 

"Yes,  Vi's  only  thirteen,"  answered  Virginia 
running  to  the  door  to  meet  her.  "  Vi,  my  dear, 
how  good  in  you  to  come.  How  sweet  you  look  !  " 
kissing  her.  "  Rosie  too,"  bestowing  a  caress 
upon  her  also,  "pink's  so  becoming  to  you,  little 
pet,  and  blue  equally  so  to  Vi.  This  is  my  friend 
Miss  Reed,  Vi,  I've  been  telling  her  about  you." 

Violet  gave  her  hand,  then  drew  back  blushing 
and  slightly  disconcerted  by  the  almost  rude  stare 
of  the  black  eyes  that  seemed  to  be  taking  an  in- 
ventory of  her  personal  appearance  and  attire. 

"  Where  is  Isa  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Here,  and  very  glad  to  see  you,  Vi,"  an- 
swered a  silvery  voice,  and  a  tall,  queenly  looking 
girl  of  twenty,  in  rustling  black  silk  and  with  roses 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  167 

in  her  hair  and  at  her  throat,  took  Violet's  hands 
in  hers  and  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks,  then  letting 
her  go,  saluted  the  little  one  in  like  manner. 

"Why  don't  you  do  that  to  me?  guess  I  like 
kisses  as  well  as  other  folks,  ha  !  ha  !  "  cried  a 
shrill  voice,  and  a  little  withered  up,  faded  woman 
with  a  large  wax  doll  in  her  arms,  came  skipping 
into  the  room. 

Her  hair,  plentifully  sprinkled  with  grey,  hung 
loosely  about  her  neck,  and  she  had  bedizened 
herself  with  ribbons  and  faded  artificial  flowers  of 
every  hue. 

"Well,  Griselda,"  she  continued,  addressing 
the  doll,  which  she  dandled  in  her  arms,  regarding 
it  with  a  look  of  fond  admiration,  "we  don't  care, 
do  we,  dear  ?  We  love  and  embrace  one  another, 
and  that's  enough." 

"  Oh,  go  back  to  your  own  room,"  said  Virginia 
in  a  tone  of  annoyance,  "  we  don't  want  you  here." 

"I'll  go  when  I  get  ready,  and  not  a  minute 
sooner,"  was  the  rejoinder  in  a  pettish  tone.  "  Oh, 
here's  visitors  !  what  a  pretty  little  girl  !  what's 
your  name,  little  girl  ?  Won't  you  come  and  play 
with  me?  I'll  lend  you  Grimalkin,  my  other  wax 
doll.  She's  a  beauty  ;  almost  as  pretty  as  Griselda. 
Now  don't  get  mad  at  that,  Grissy,  dear,"  kissing 
the  doll  again  and  again. 

Rose  was  frightened  and  clung  to  her  sister,  try- 
ing to  hide  behind  her. 

"It's    Aunt   Enna  ;   she  won't  hurt  you,"  whis- 


i68  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

pered  Vi ;  "  she  never  hurts  any  one  unless  she  is 
teased  or  worried  into  a  passion." 

"Won't  she  make  me  go  with  her!  oh,  don't 
let  her,  Vi." 

"No,  dear,  you  shall  stay  with  me.  And  here 
is  the  nurse  come  to  take  her  away,"  Violet  an- 
swered, as  the  poor  lunatic  was  led  from  the  room 
by  her  attendant. 

"Dear  me!"  exclaimed  Miss  Reed,  who  had 
not  seen  or  heard  of  Enna  before,  turning  to  Vir- 
ginia, "does  she  belong  in  the  house?  aren't  you 
afraid  of  her  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all;  she  is  perfectly  harmless.  She  is 
my  mother's  sister,  and  lost  her  reason  some  years 
ago,  by  an  accidental  injury  to  the  head." 

"  I  wonder  you  don't  send  her  to  an  asylum." 

"Perhaps  it  might  be  as  well,"  returned  Vir- 
ginia indifferently,  "  but  it's  not  my  affair." 

"  Grandpa  would  never  hear  of  such  a  thing  1  " 
said  Isadore,  indignantly. 

"Mamma  would  not  either,  I  am  sure,"  said 
Violet.  "  Poor  Aunt  Enna!  should  she  be  sent 
away  from  all  who  love  her,  just  because  she  is  un- 
fortunate ?  " 

"  Every  one  to  their  taste,"  remarked  the  visitor, 
shrugging  her  shoulders. 

Vi  inquired  for  her  Aunt  Louise  and  the  younger 
members  of  the  family,  and  was  told  that  they  and 
the  grandfather  were  spending  the  day  at  Pine- 
grove. 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  169 

"I  was  glad  they  decided  to  go  to-day,"  said 
Isadore,  seating  Vi  and  herself  comfortably  on  a 
sofa,  then  taking  Rose  on  her  lap  and  caressing 
her,  "  because  I  wanted  you  here,  and  to  have  you 
to  myself.  You  see  these  two  young  ladies," 
glancing  smilingly  at  her  sister  and  guest,  "  are  so 
fully  taken  up  with  each  other,  that  for  the  most  of 
the  time  I  am  quite  detrop,  and  must  look  for  en- 
tertainment elsewhere  than  in  their  society." 

"  Yes,"  said  Virginia,  with  more  candor  than 
politeness,  "  Josie  and  I  are  all  sufficient  for  each 
other  ;   are  we  not,  mon  amie  ?  ' ' 

"Very  true,  machere,  yet  I  enjoy  Isa's  company, 
and  am  extremely  delighted  to  have  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  your  charming  cousin,"  remarked 
Miss  Reed,  with  an  insinuating  bow  directed  to 
Violet. 

"  You  do  not  know  me  yet,"  said  Vi,  modestly. 
"  Though  so  tall,  I  am  only  a  little  girl  and  do  not 
know  enough  to  make  an  interesting  companion  for 
a  young  lady." 

"Quite  a  mistake,  Vi,"  said  Isadore  rising. 
"  But  there  is  the  dinner-bell.  Come  let  us  try 
the  soothing  and  exhilarating  effect  of  food  and 
drink  upon  our  flagging  spirits.  We  will  not  wait 
for  Art;  there's  no  knowing  when  he  can  leave 
his  patients ;   and  Cal's  away  on  business." 

On  leaving  the  table,  Isadore  carried  off  her 
young  cousins  to  her  own  apartments.  Rose  was 
persuaded  to  lie  down  and  take  a  nap,  while  the 


170  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

older  girls  conversed  together  in  an  adjoining 
room. 

"  Isn't  it  delightful  to  be  at  home  again,  after  all 
those  years  in  the  convent?"  queried  Vi. 

"I  enjoy  home,  certainly,"  replied  Isa,  "yet  I 
deeply  regretted  leaving  the  sisters ;  for  you  can- 
not think  how  good  and  kind  they  were  to  me. 
Shall  I  tell  you  about  it?  about  my  life  there?  " 

"  Oh,  do  !     I  should  so  like  to  hear  it." 

Isadore  smiled  at  the  eager  tone,  the  bright  in- 
terested look,  and  at  once  began  a  long  and  minute 
description  of  the  events  of  her  school-days  at  the 
nunnery,  ending  with  a  eulogy  upon  convent  life 
in  general,  and  the  nuns  who  had  been  her  educa- 
tors, in  particular.  "  They  lived  such  holy,  de- 
voted lives,  were  so  kind,  so  good,  so  self-denying." 

Violet  listened  attentively,  making  no  remark, 
but  Isadore  read  disapproval  more  than  once  in 
her  speaking  countenance. 

"  I  wish  your  mamma  would  send  you  and  Elsie 
there  to  finish,"  remarked  Isa,  breaking  the  pause 
which  followed  the  conclusion  of  her  narrative. 
"  Should  you  not  like  to  go?  " 

"No,  oh  no,  no  !  "  » 

"Why  not?" 

"  Isa,  I  could  never,  never  do  some  of  those 
things  you  say  they  require — bow  to  images  or 
pictures,  or  kneel  before  them,  or  join  in  prayers 
or  hymns  to  the  Virgin." 

"I  don't  know  how  you  could  be  so  wicked  as 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  171 

to  refuse.  She  is  the  queen  of  Heaven  and  mother 
of  God." 

"  Isa  !  "  and  Violet  looked  inexpressibly  shocked. 

"  You  can't  deny  it.     Wasn't  Jesus  God?  " 

"Yes;  he  is  God.  'In  the  beginning  was  the 
Word,  and  the  Word  was  with  God,  and  the  Word 
was  God.'  'And  the  Word  was  made  flesh,  and 
dwelt  among  us.'  " 

"Ah!  and  was  not  the  Virgin  Mary  his 
mother?  " 

Vi  looked  perplexed  for  a  moment,  then  bright- 
ening, "Ah,  I  know  now,"  she  said,  "Jesus  was 
God  and  man  both." 

"Well?" 

"  And — mamma  told  me — Mary  was  the  mother 
of  his  human  nature  only,  and  it  is  blasphemous  to 
call  her  the  mother  of  God  ;  and  to  do  her  homage 
is  idolatry." 

"  So  I  thought  before  I  went  to  the  convent,"  said 
Isadore,  "  but  the  sisters  convinced  me  of  my  error. 
Vi,  I  should  like  to  show  you  something.  Can 
you  keep  a  secret  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  had  a  secret  from  mamma  ;  I  do 
not  wish  to  have  any." 

"But  you  can't  tell  her  everything  now  while 
she's  away,  and  this  concerns  no  one  but  myself. 
I  know  I  can  trust  to  your  honor,"  and  taking  Vi's 
hand,  she  opened  a  door  and  drew  her  into  a  large 
closet,  lighted  by  a  small  circular  window  quite 
high  up  in  the  wall.     The  place  was  fitted  up  as 


172  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

an  oratory,  with  a  picture  of  the  Virgin  and  child, 
and  a  crucifix,  standing  on  a  little  table  with  a 
prayer-book  and  rosary  beside  it. 

Vi  had  never  seen  such  things,  but  she  had 
heard  of  them  and  knew  what  they  signified. 
Glancing  from  the  picture  to  the  crucifix,  she 
started  back  in  horror,  and  without  a  word  hastily 
retreated  to  the  dressing-room,  where  she  dropped 
into  a  chair,  pale,  trembling  and  distressed. 

"  Isadore,  Isadore !  "  she  cried,  clasping  her 
hands,  and  lifting  her  troubled  eyes  to  her  cousin's 
face,  "  have  you — have  you  become  a  papist?  " 

"I  am  a  member  of  the  one  true  church,"  re- 
turned her  cousin  coldly.  "  How  bigoted  you  are, 
Violet.  I  could  not  have  believed  it  of  so  sweet 
and  gentle  a  young  thing  as  you.  I  trust  you  will 
not  consider  it  your  duty  to  betray  me  to  mamma?  " 

' '  Betray  you  ?  can  you  think  I  would  ?  So 
Aunt  Louise  does  not  know?  Oh,  Isa,  can  you 
think  it  right  to  hide  it  from  her — your  own 
mother?  " 

"  Yes;  because  I  was  directed  to  do  so  by  my 
father  confessor,  and  because  my  motive  is  a  good 
one,  and  'the  end  sanctifies  the  means.'  " 

"  Isa,  mamma  has  taught  me,  and  the  Bible  says 
it  too,  that  it  is  never  right  to  do  evil  that  good 
may  come." 

"Perhaps  you  and  your  mamma  do  not  always 
understand  the  real  meaning  of  what  the  Bible 
says.     It  must  be  that  many  people  misunderstand 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  173 

it,  else  why  are  there  so  many  denominations  of 
Protestants,  teaching  opposite  doctrines,  and  all 
professing  to  get  them  from  the  Bible?  " 

Violet  in  her  extreme  youth  and  want  of  infor- 
mation and  ability  to  argue,  was  not  prepared  with 
an  answer. 

"Does  Virgy  know?  "  she  asked. 

"About  my  change  of  views  and  my  oratory? 
Yes." 

"  And  does  she " 

"Virgy  is  altogether  worldly,  and  cares  nothing 
for  religion  of  any  kind." 

Vi's  face  was  full  of  distress  ;  "  Isa,"  she  said, 
"  may  I  ask  you  a  question  ?  " 

"What  is  it?  " 

"  When  you  pray,  do  you  kneel  before  that — 
that " 

"Crucifix?  sometimes,  at  others  before  the 
Virgin  and  child." 

Vi  shuddered.  "  O  Isa,  have  you  forgotten  the 
second  commandment  ?  '  Thou  shalt  not  make 
unto  thee  any  graven  image  or  any  likeness  of  any- 
thing that  is  in  heaven  above,  or  that  is  in  the 
earth  beneath,  or  that  is  in  the  waters  under  the 
earth;  thou  shalt  not  bow  down  thyself  to  them 
nor  serve  them.'  " 

"  I  have  not  forgotten,  but  am  content  to  do  as 
the  church  directs,"  returned  Isadore,  coldly. 

"  Isa,  didn't  they  promise  Aunt  Louise  that  they 
would  not  interfere  with  your  religion?" 


174  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"Yes." 

"And  then  broke  their  promise.  How  can  you 
think  they  are  good  ?  ' ' 

"  They  did  it  to  save  my  soul.  Was  not  that  a 
good  and  praiseworthy  motive  ?  ' ' 

"Yes;  but  if  they  thought  it  their  duty  to  try 
to  make  you  believe  as  they  do,  they  should  not 
have  promised  not  to  do  so. ' ' 

"But  in  that  case  I  should  never  have  been 
placed  in  the  convent,  and  they  would  have  had  no 
opportunity  to  labor  for  my  conversion." 

Earnestly,  constantly  had  Elsie  endeavored  to 
obey  the  command.  "Therefore  shall  ye  lay  up 
these  my  words  in  your  heart  and  in  your  soul,  and 
bind  them  for  a  sign  upon  your  hand,  that  they 
may  be  as  frontlets  between  your  eyes.  And  ye 
shall  teach  them  to  your  children,  speaking  of  them 
when  thou  sittest  in  thy  house,  and  when  thou 
walkest  by  the  way,  when  thou  liest  down,  and 
when  thou  risest  up." 

Thus  Violet's  memory  was  stored  with  texts,  and 
these  words  from  Isaiah  suggested  themselves  as  a 
fit  comment  upon  Isadore's  last  remark.  "  Woe 
unto  them  that  call  evil  good  and  good  evil ;  that 
put  darkness  for  light  and  light  for  darkness;  that 
put  bitter  for  sweet  and  sweet  for  bitter." 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEENTH. 

"  But  all's  not  true  that  supposition  saith, 
Nor  have  the  mightiest  arguments  most  faith." 
— Drayton. 

"  Examples  I  could  cite  you  more  ; 
But  be  contented  with  these  four ; 
For  when  one's  proofs  are  aptly  chosen, 
Four  are  as  valid  as  four  dozen." 

— Prior. 

Isa's  perversion,  Isa's  secret,  weighed  heavily 
upon  the  heart  and  conscience  of  poor  Violet ; 
the  child  had  never  been  burdened  with  a  secret 
before. 

She  thought  Aunt  Louise  ought  to  know,  yet 
was  not  at  all  clear  that  it  was  her  duty  to  tell  her. 
She  wished  it  might  be  discovered  in  some  way 
without  her  agency,  for  "it  was  a  dreadful  thing 
for  Isa  to  be  left  to  go  on  believing  and  doing  as 
she  did.  Oh,  if  only  she  could  be  talked  to  by 
some  one  old  enough  and  wise  enough  to  convince 
her  of  her  errors  !  " 

Isadore  with  the  zeal  of  a  young  convert,  had 
set  herself  the  task  of  bringing  Vi  over  to  her  new 
faith.  The  opportunity  afforded  by  the  absence  of 
the  vigilant  parents  was  too  good  to  be  lost,  and 
should  be  improved  to  the  utmost. 
]75 


176  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

She  made  daily  errands  to  Ion,  some  trifling  gift 
'  to  Molly  often  being  the  excuse,  was  sweet  and 
gracious  to  all,  but  devoted  herself  especially  to 
Violet,  insisting  on  sharing  her  room  when  she 
staid  over  night,  coaxing  her  out  for  long  walks  and 
drives,  rowing  with  her  on  the  lake,  learning  to 
handle  the  oars  herself  in  order  that  they  might  go 
alone. 

And  all  the  time  she  was  on  the  watch  for  every 
favorable  opening  to  say  something  to  undermine 
the  child's  faith,  or  bias  her  mind  in  favor  of  the 
tenets  of  the  church  of  Rome. 

Violet  grew  more  and  more  troubled  and  per- 
plexed and  now  not  on  Isa's  account  alone.  She 
could  not  give  up  the  faith  of  her  fathers,  the  faith 
of  the  Bible  (to  that  inspired  word  she  clung  as  to 
the  rock  which  must  save  her  from  being  engulfed 
in  the  wild  waters  of  doubt  and  difficulty  that  were 
surging  around  her)  but  neither  could  she  answer 
all  Isadore's  questions  and  arguments,  and  there  was 
no  one  to  whom  she  might  turn  in  her  bewilder- 
ment, lest  she  should  betray  her  cousin's  secret. 

She  prayed  for  guidance  and  help,  searching  the 
Scriptures  and  "comparing  spiritual  things  with 
spiritual,"  and  thus  was  kept  from  the  snares  laid 
for  her  inexperienced  feet ;  she  stumbled  and 
walked  with  uncertain  step  for  a  time,  but  did  not 
fall. 

Those  about  her,  particularly  Eddie  and  her  old 
mammy,  noticed  the  unwonted  care  and  anxiety  in 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  177 

her  innocent  face,  but  attributed  it  wholly  to  the 
unfavorable  news  in  regard  to  Lily's  condition, 
which  reached  them  from  time  to  time. 

The  dear  invalid  was  reported  as  making  little 
or  no  progress  toward  recovery,  and  the  hearts  of 
brothers  and  sisters  were  deeply  saddened  by  the 
tidings. 

Miss  Reed  was  still  at  Roselands,  and  had  been 
brought  several  times  by  Virginia  for  a  call  at  Ion, 
and  at  length,  Violet  having  written  for  and  obtained 
permission  of  her  parents,  and  consulted  Mrs. 
Daly's  convenience  in  reference  to  the  matter,  in- 
vited the  three  girls  for  a  visit  of  several  days,  stip- 
ulating, however,  that  it  was  not  to  interfere  with 
lessons. 

To  this  the  girls  readily  assented  ;  "  they  would 
make  themselves  quite  at  home,  and  find  their  own 
amusement ;  it  was  what  they  should  like  above  all 
things." 

The  plan  worked  well,  except  that  under  this 
constant  association  with  Isadore,  Vi  grew  daily 
more  careworn  and  depressed.  Even  Mr.  Daly 
noticed  it,  and  spoke  to  her  of  Lily's  state  as  hope- 
fully as  truth  would  permit. 

"  Do  not  be  too  much  troubled,  my  dear  child," 
he  said,  taking  her  hand  in  a  kind  fatherly  manner. 
"  She  is  in  the  hands  of  One  who  loves  her  even 
better  than  her  parents,  brothers  and  sisters  do,  and 
will  let  no  real  evil  come  nigh  her.  He  may  re- 
store   her  to    health,   but  if  not — if  he  takes  her 


178  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

from  us,  it  will  be  to  make  her  infinitely  happier 
with  himself;  for  we  know  that  she  has  given  her 
young  heart  to  him." 

Violet  bowed  a  silent  assent,  then  hurried  from 
the  room  ;  her  heart  too  full  for  speech.  She  was 
troubled,  sorely  troubled  for  her  darling,  suffering 
little  sister,  and  with  this  added  anxiety,  her  bur- 
den was  hard  indeed  to  bear. 

Mr.  Daly  was  reading  in  the  library  that  after- 
noon, when  Violet  came, running  in  as  if  in  haste, 
a  flush  of  excitement  on  her  fair  face. 

"Ah,  excuse  me,  sir!  I  fear  I  have  disturbed 
you,"  she  said,  as  he  looked  up  from  his  book; 
"  but  oh,  I'm  glad  to  find  you  here  !  for  I  think 
you  will  help  me.  I  came  to  look  for  a  Bible  and 
Concordance." 

"They  are  both  here  on  this  table,"  he  said. 
"  I  am  glad  you  are  wanting  them,  for  we  cannot 
study  them  too  much.  But  in  what  can  I  help 
you,  Vi  ?  is  it  some  theological  discussion  between 
your  cousins  and  yourself?  " 

' '  Yes,  sir ;  we  were  talking  about  a  book — a 
story-book  that  Miss  Reed  admires — and  I  said 
mamma  would  not  allow  us  to  read  it,  because  it 
teaches  that  Jesus  Christ  was  only  a  good  man ; 
and  Miss  Reed  said  that  was  her  belief ;  and  yet 
she  professes  to  believe  the  Bible,  and  I  wish  to 
show  her,  that  it  teaches  that  he  was  very  God  as 
well  as  man." 

"That  will  not  be  difficult,"  he  said;   "  for  no 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  179 

words  could  state  it  more  directly  and  clearly  than 
these,  '  Christ,  who  is  over  all,  God  blessed  for- 
ever. Amen.'  "  And  opening  the  Bible  at  the 
ninth  chapter  of  Romans,  he  pointed  to  the  latter 
'Clause  of  the  fifth  verse. 

"  Oh,  let  me  show  her  that  !  "   cried  Vi. 

"Suppose  you  invite  them  in  here,"  he  sug- 
gested, and  she  hastened  to  do  so. 

Miss  Reed  read  the  text  as  it  was  pointed  out  to 
her,  "  I  don't  remember  noticing  that  before,"  was 
all  she  said. 

Silently  Mr.  Daly  turned  over  the  leaves  and 
pointed  out  the  twentieth  verse  of  the  first  Epistle 
of  John,  where  it  is  said  of  Jesus  Christ,  "This  is 
the  true  God  and  eternal  life ;  "  and  then  to  Isaiah 
ix.  6.  "  For  unto  us  a  child  is  born,  unto  us  a 
son  is  given  ;  and  the  government  shall  be  upon 
his  shoulder ;  and  his  name  shall  be  called  Won- 
derful, Counsellor,  the  Mighty  God,  the  Everlast- 
ing Father,  the  Prince  of  Peace,"  and  several 
other  passages  equally  strong  and  explicit  in  their 
declaration  of  the  divinity  of  Christ. 

"Well,"  said  Miss  Reed,  "if  he  was  God,  why 
didn't  he  say  so?  " 

"He  did  again  and  again,"  was  the  reply. 
"Here  John  viii.  5S — we  read  "Jesus  said  unto 
them,  '  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  Before  Abra- 
ham was,  I  am.'  " 

"  I  don't  see  it  !  "  she  said  sneeringly. 

"  You  do  not?  just  compare  it  with  this  other 


180  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

passage  Exodus  iii.  14,  15.  'And  God  said  unto 
Moses,  I  am  that  I  am  :  and  he  said,  Thus  shalt 
thou  say  unto  the  children  of  Israel,  I  am  hath  sent 
me  unto  you.  And  God  said  moreover  unto 
Moses,  Thus  shalt  thou  say  unto  the  children  of 
Israel,  The  Lord  God  of  your  fathers,  the  God  of 
Abraham,  the  God  of  Isaac,  and  the  God  of  Jacob, 
hath  sent  me  unto  you ;  this  is  my  name  forever, 
and  this  is  my  memorial  unto  all  generations.' 
The  Jews  who  were  present  understood  those  words 
of  Jesus  as  an  assertion  of  his  divinity  and  took  up 
stones  to  cast  at  him." 

Isadore  seemed  interested  in  the  discussion,  but 
Virginia  showed  evident  impatience.  "  What's  the 
use  of  bothering  ourselves  about  it?"  she  ex- 
claimed at  length,  "  what  difference  does  it  make 
whether  we  believe  in  his  divinity  or  deny  it?  " 

"  A  vast  deal  of  difference,  my  dear  young 
lady,"  said  Mr.  Daly.  "  If  Christ  be  not  divine,  it 
is  idolatry  to  worship  him.  If  he  is  divine,  and 
we  fail  to  acknowledge  it  and  to  trust  in  him  for 
salvation,  we  must  be  eternally  lost  for  '  neither  is 
there  salvation  in  any  other;  for  there  is  none 
other  name  under  heaven  given  among  men, 
whereby  we  must  be  saved.'  '  But  whosoever  be- 
lieveth  in  him  shall  receive  remission  of  sins.'  " 

Virginia  fidgeted  uneasily  and  Miss  Reed  in- 
quired with  affected  politeness,  if  that  were  all. 

"No,"  he  said,  "far  from  it;  yet  if  the  Bible 
be — as  I  think  we  all  acknowledge — the  inspired 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  181 

word  of  God,  one  plain  declaration  of  a  truth  is  as 
authoritative  as  a  dozen." 

"Suppose  I  don't  believe  it  is  all  inspired?" 
queried  Miss  Reed. 

"  Still,  since  Jesus  asserts  his  own  divinity,  we 
must  either  accept  him  as  God,  or  believe  him  to 
have  been  an  impostor  and  therefore  not  even  a 
good  man.  He  must  be  to  us  everything  or  noth- 
ing ;  there  is  no  neutral  ground;  he  says,  'He 
that  is  not  with  me  is  against  me.'  " 

"  And  there  is  only  one  true  church,"  remarked 
Isadore,  forgetting  herself;  "the  holy  Roman 
Church,  and  none  without  her  pale  can  be  ^aved." 

Mr.  Daly  looked  at  her  in  astonishment.  Violet 
was  at  first  greatly  startled,  then  inexpressibly  re- 
lieved ;  since  Isa's  secret  being  one  no  longer,  a 
heavy  weight  was  removed  from  her  heart  and 
conscience. 

Virginia  was  the  first  to  speak.  "  There  !  "  she 
said,  "you've  let  it  out  yourself;  I  always  knew 
you  would  sooner  or  later." 

"Weil,"  returned  Isadore,  drawing  herself  up 
haughtily,  determined  to  put  a  brave  face  upon  the 
matter,  now  that  there  was  no  retreat,  "  I'm  not 
ashamed  of  my  faith  ;  nor  afraid  to  attempt  its  de- 
fence against  any  who  may  see  fit  to  attack  it,"  she 
added  with  a  defiant  look  at  Mr.  Daly. 

He  smiled  a  little  sadly.  "I  am  very  sorry  for 
you,  Miss  Conly,"  he  said,  "and  do  not  feel  at  all 
belligerent  toward  you  ;  but  let  me  entreat  you  to 


182  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

rest  your  hopes  of  salvation  only  upon  the  atoning 
blood  and  imputed  righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ." 

"  I  must  do  good  works  also,"  she  said. 

"  Yes  as  an  evidence,  but  not  as  the  ground  of 
your  faith ;  we  must  do  good  works  not  that  we 
may  be  saved,  but  because  we  are  saved.  '  If  a 
man  love  me,  he  will  keep  my  words.'  Well,  my 
little  Vi,  what  is  it?"  for  she  was  looking  at  him 
with  eager,  questioning  eyes. 

"  O,  Mr.  Daly,  I  want  you  to  answer  some  things 
Isa  has  said  to  me.  Isa,  I  have  never  mentioned 
it  to  any  one  before.  I  have  kept  your  secret  faith- 
fully, till  now  that  you  have  told  it  yourself." 

"I  don't  blame  you,  Vi,"  she  answered  color- 
ing. "  I  presume  I  shall  be  blamed  for  my  efforts 
to  bring  you  over  to  the  true  faith,  but  my  con- 
science acquits  me  of  any  bad  motive.  I  wanted 
to  save  your  soul.  Mr.  Daly,  I  do  not  imagine 
you  can  answer  all  that  I  have  to  bring  against  the 
claims  of  Protestantism.  Pray  where  was  that 
church  before  the  Reformation?  " 

There  was  something  annoying  to  the  girl  in  the 
smile  with  which  he  heard  her  question. 

"  Wherever  the  Bible  was  made  the  rule  of  faith 
and  practice,"  he  said,  "  there  was  Protestantism 
though  existing  under  another  name.  All  through 
the  dark  ages,  when  Popery  was  dominant  almost 
all  over  the  civilized  world,  the  light  of  a  pure 
gospel — the  very  same  that  the  Reformation  spread 
abroad  over  other  parts  of  Europe — burned  brightly 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  183 

among  the  secluded  valleys  of  Piedmont;  and 
twelve  hundred  years  of  bloody  persecution  on  the 
part  of  apostate  Rome  could  not  quench  it. 

"  I  know  that  Popery  lays  great  stress  on  her 
claims  to  antiquity,  but  Paganism  is  older  still,  and 
evangelical  religion — which,  as  I  have  already  said, 
is  Protestantism  under  another  name — is  as  old  as 
the  Christian  Era;  as  the  human  nature  of  its 
founder,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

"  You  are  making  assertions,"  said  Isadore 
bridling,  "  but  where  are  your  proofs?  " 

"They  are  not  wanting,"  he  said.  "Suppose 
we  undertake  the  study  of  ecclesiastical  history 
together,  and  see  how  Popery  was  the  growth  of 
centuries,  as  one  error  after  another  crept  into  the 
Christian  church." 

"  I  don't  believe  she  was  ever  the  persecutor 
you  would  make  her  out  to  have  been,"  said 
Isadore. 

"Popish  historians  bear  witness  to  it  as  well  as 
Protestant,"  he  answered. 

"Well,  it's  persecution  to  bring  up  those  old 
stories  against  her  now." 

"Is  it?  when  she  will  not  disavow  them,  but 
maintains  that  she  has  always  done  right  ?  and 
more  than  that,  tells  us  she  will  do  the  same  again 
if  ever  she  has  the  power." 

"  I'm  sure  all  Romanists  are  not  so  cruel  as  to 
wish  to  torture  or  kill  their  Protestant  neighbors,'' 
cried  Isadore  indignantly. 


1 84  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"And  I  quite  agree  with  you  there,"  he  said; 
"  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  that  many  of  them  are 
very  kind-hearted ;  but  I  was  speaking,  not  of  in- 
dividuals, but  of  the  Romish  Church  as  such.  She 
is  essentially  a  persecuting  power." 

"Well,  being  the  only  true  church,  she  has  the 
right  to  compel  conformity  to  her  creed." 

"  Ah,  you  have  already  imbibed  something  of 
her  spirit.  But  we  contend  that  she  is  not  the  true 
church.  '  To  the  law  and  to  the  testimony ;  if  they 
speak  not  according  to  this  word,  it  is  because  there 
is  no  light  in  them.'  Brought  to  the  touch-stone 
of  God's  revealed  word,  she  is  proved  to  be  repro- 
bate silver;  her  creed  spurious  Christianity.  In 
second  Thessalonians,  second  chapter,  we  have  a 
very  clear  description  of  her  as  that  'Wicked 
whom  the  Lord  shall  consume  with  the  spirit  of  his 
mouth,  and  shall  destroy  with  the  brightness  of  his 
coming.'  Also,  in  the  seventeenth  of  Revelation, 
where  she  is  spoken  of  as  '  Babylon  the  great,  the 
mother  of  harlots  and  abominations  of  the  earth. '  " 

"  How  do  you  know  she  is  meant  there?  "  asked 
Isadore,  growing  red  and  angry. 

"  Because  she,  and  she  alone,  answers  to  the 
description.  It  is  computed  that  fifty  millions  of 
Protestants  have  been  slain  in  her  persecutions; 
may  it  not  then  be  truly  said  of  her  that  she  is 
drunken  with  the  blood  of  the  saints?" 

"  I  think  what  you  have  been  saying  shows  that 
the  priests  are  right  in  teaching  that  the  Bible  is  a 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  185 

dangerous  book  in  the  hands  of  the  ignorant,  and 
should  therefore  be  withheld  from  the  laity,"  re- 
torted Isadore  hotly. 

"But,"  returned  Mr.  Daly,  "Jesus  said, 
'  Search  the  Scriptures ;  for  in  them  ye  think  ye 
have  eternal  life ;  and  they  are  they  which  testify 
of  me/  '' 


CHAPTER  NINETEENTH. 

"  Let  us  go  back  again  mother, 
Oh,  take  me  home  to  die." 

"And  so,  Isa,  my  uncle's  predictions  that  youi 
popish  teachers  would  violate  their  promise  not  to 
meddle  with  your  faith,  have  proved  only  too 
true,"  said  Calhoun  Conly,  stepping  forward,  as 
Mr.  Daly  finished  his  last  quotation  from  the 
Scriptures. 

In  the  heat  of  their  discussion,  neither  the 
minister  nor  Isadore  had  noticed  his  entrance,  but 
he  had  been  standing  there,  an  interested  listener, 
long  enough  to  learn  the  sad  fact  of  his  sister's 
perversion. 

"  They  only  did  their  duty,  and  I  shall  not  have 
them  blamed  for  it,"  she  said,  haughtily. 

"They  richly  deserve  blame,  and  you  cannot 
prevent  it  from  being  given  them,"  he  answered 
firmly,  and  with  flashing  eyes.  "I  have  come,  by 
my  mother's  request,  to  take  you  and  Virginia 
home,  inviting  Miss  Reed  to  accompany  us." 

"I  am  ready,"  said  Isadore,  rising,  the  others 
doing  likewise. 

"But    you    will    stay    to    tea?"    Violet   said. 
"  Cal,  you  are  not  in  too  great  haste  for  that  ?  " 
186 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  187- 

"I'm  afraid  I  am,  little  cousin,"  he  answered 
with  a  smile  of  acknowledgment  of  her  hospitality. 
"  I  must  meet  a  gentleman  on  business,  half  an 
hour  from  now." 

Vi  expressed  her  regrets,  and  ran  after  the  girlsr 
who  had  already  left  the  room  to  prepare  for  their 
drive. 

They  seemed  in  haste  to  get  away. 

"  We've  had  enough  of  Mr.  Daly's  prosing  about 
religion,"  said  Virginia. 

"I'm  sick  of  it,"  chimed  in  Miss  Reed,  "what 
difference  does  it  make  what  you  believe,  if  you're 
only  sincere  and  live  right  ?  " 

"  'With  the  heart  man  believeth  unto  righteous- 
ness,' "  said  Violet;  "and  '  the  just  shall  live  by 
faith.'  " 

"  You're  an  apt  pupil,"  sneered  Virginia. 

"It  is  mamma's  doing  that  my  memory  is  stored 
with  texts,"  returned  the  child,  reddening. 

Isadore  was  silent  and  gloomy,  and  took  leave  of 
her  young  cousin  so  coldly,  as  to  quite  sadden  her 
sensitive  spirit. 

Violet  had  enjoyed  being  made  much  of  by  Isa, 
who  was  a  beautiful  and  brilliant  young  lady,  and 
this  sudden  change  in  her  manner  was  far  from 
pleasant.  Still  the  pain  it  gave  her  was  greatly 
overbalanced  by  the  relief  of  having  her  perplexities 
removed,  her  doubts  set  at  rest. 

Standing  on  the  veranda,  she  watched  the  car- 
riage as  it  rolled  away  down  the  avenue,  then  hailed 


i88  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

with  delight  a  horseman  who  came  galloping  up5 
alighted  and  giving  the  bridle  to  Solon,  turned  to  her 
with  open  arms,  and  a  smile  that  proclaimed  him  the 
bearer  of  good  tidings,  before  he  uttered  a  word. 

"  Grandpa,"  she  cried,  springing  to  his  embrace, 
"Oh,  is  Lily  better?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  caressing  her,  then  turning  to 
greet  Rosie  and  the  boys,  who  had  come  running 
at  the  sound  of  his  voice.  "  I  have  had  a  letter 
from  your  mother,  in  which  she  says  the  dear  in- 
valid seems  decidedly  better. ' ' 

"  Oh,  joy  !  joy  !  "  cried  the  children,  Rosie  hug- 
ging and  kissing  her  grandfather,  the  boys  capering 
about  in  a  transport  of  gladness. 

"And  will  they  come  home  soon,  grandpa?" 
asked  Eddie. 

"  Nothing  is  said  about  that,  I  presume  they  will 
linger  at  the  North  till  the  weather  begins  to  grow 
too  cool  for  Lily,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  answered,  shak- 
ing hands  with  Mr.  Daly,  who,  hearing  his  voice 
on  the  veranda,  stepped  out  to  inquire  for  news  of 
the  absent  ones. 

While  they  talked  together,  Vi  ran  away  in 
•search  of  Aunt  Chloe. 

She  found  her  on  the  back  veranda,  enjoying  a 
chat  with  Aunt  Dicey  and  Uncle  Joe. 

"Oh,  mammy,  good  news!  good  news!  "  Vi 
cried,  half  breathless  with  haste  and  happiness; 
*'  grandpa  had  a  letter  from  mamma,  and  our  dar- 
ling Lily  is  better,  much  better." 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  189 

"  Bress  de  Lord  !  "  ejaculated  her  listeners  in 
chorus. 

"  Bress  his  holy  name,  I  hope  de  chile  am  gwine 
to  discover  her  health  agin,"  added  Uncle  Joe. 
"  I'se  been  a  prayin'  pow'ful  strong  for  her." 

"  'Spect  der  is  been  more'n  you  at  dat  business, 
Uncle  Joe;"  remarked  Aunt  Dicey,  "'spect  I 
knows  one  ole  niggah  dat  didn't  fail  to  disremem- 
ber  de  little  darlin'  at  de  throne  ob  grace." 

"  De  bressed  lamb!"  murmured  Aunt  Chloe, 
dropping  a  tear  on  Violet's  golden  curls  as  she 
clasped  her  to  her  breast,  "she's  de  Lord's  own, 
and  he'll  take  de  bes'  care  of  her;  in  dis  world 
and  in  de  nex' ;  be  sho'  ob  dat,  honey.  Ise  mighty 
glad  for  her  and  my  dear  missus ;  and  for  you  too 
Miss  Wi'let.  You's  been  frettin'  yo'  heart  out 
'bout  Miss  Lily." 

"I've  been  very  anxious  about  her,  mammy; 
and  something  else  has  been  troubling  me  too,  but 
it's  all  right  now,"  Violet  answered  with  a  glad 
look,  then  releasing  herself,  ran  back  to  her  grand- 
father. 

She  had  seen  less  than  usual  of  him  for  several 
weeks  past,  and  wanted  an  opportunity  to  pour  out 
all  her  heart  to  him. 

He  had  gone  up  to  Molly's  sitting-room,  and  she 
followed  him  thither. 

With  Rosie  on  his  knee,  Harold  and  Herbert 
standing  on  either  side,  and  Eddie  sitting  near,  he 
was  chatting  gayly   with  his  crippled  niece,  who 


igo  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

was  as  bright  and  cheery  as  any  of  the  group,  all 
of  whom  were  full  of  joy  over  the  glad  tidings  he 
had  brought. 

"Grandpa,"  said  Vi,  joining  them,  "  it  seems  a 
good  while  since  you  were  here  for  more  than  a 
short  call.  Won't  you  stay  now  for  the  rest  of  the 
day?  " 

"Yes,  and  I  propose  that  we  drive  down  to  the 
lake,  Molly  and  all,  and  have  a  row.  I  think  it 
would  do  you  all  good.  The  weather  is  delight- 
ful." 

The  motion  was  carried  by  acclamation,  Molly's 
maid  was  summoned,  Eddie  went  down  to  order 
the  carriage,  and  the  rest  scattered  to  prepare  for 
the  expedition. 

It  was  a  lovely  October  day,  the  air  balmy,  the 
woods  gorgeous  in  their  richly  colored  autumn 
robes ;  gold,  scarlet  and  crimson,  russet  and  green 
mingled  in  gay  profusion  ;  the  slanting  beams  of 
the  descending  sun  fell  athwart  the  lakelet,  like  a 
broad  band  of  shimmering  gold,  and  here  and 
there  lent  an  added  glory  to  the  trees.  The  boat 
glided  swiftly  over  the  rippling  waters,  now  in  sun- 
shine, now  in  shadow,  and  the  children  hushed 
their  merry  clatter,  silenced  by  the  beauty  and 
stillness  of  the  scene. 

Tea  was  waiting  when  they  returned,  and  on 
leaving  the  table  the  younger  ones  bade  good-night, 
and  went  away  with  Vi  to  be  put  to  bed. 

She  had  a  story  or  some  pleasant  talk  for  them 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  191 

every  night;  doing  her  best  to  fill  mamma's 
place. 

Vi  was  glad  to  find  her  grandpa  alone  in  the 
library  when  she  came  down  again. 

"  Come,  sit  on  my  knee,  as  your  dear  mamma 
used  to  do  at  your  age,"  he  said,  "and  tell  me 
what  you  have  been  doing  these  past  weeks  while  I 
have  seen  so  little  of  you." 

"It  is  so  nice,"  she  said  as  she  took  the  offered 
seat,  and  he  passed  his  arm  about  her,  "  so  nice  to 
have  a  grandpa  to  pet  me  ;  especially  when  I've  no 
father  or  mother  at  home  to  do  it." 

"  So  we  are  mutually  satisfied,"  he  said.  "  Now 
what  have  you  to  tell  me?  any  questions  to  ask? 
any  doubts  or  perplexities  to  be  cleared  away?  " 

"Grandpa,  has  anybody  been  telling  you  any- 
thing? "  she  asked. 

"  No,  nothing  about  you." 

"Then  I'll  just  tell  you  all."  And  she  gave 
him  a  history  of  Isadore's  efforts  to  pervert  her, 
and  their  effect  upon  her ;  also  of  the  conversation 
of  that  afternoon,  in  which  Mr.  Daly  had  answered 
the  questions  of  Isadore,  that  had  most  perplexed 
and  troubled  her. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  was  grieved  and  distressed  by 
Isa's  defection  from  the  evangelical  faith,  and  in- 
dignant at  her  attempt  to  lead  Vi  astray  also. 

"  Are  you  fully  satisfied  now  on  all  the  points?  " 
he  asked. 

"There  are  one  or  two   things  I  should  like  to 


1 92  ELSIE '  S  CHILDREN. 

ask  you  about,  grandpa,"  she  said.  "  Isa  thinks  a 
convent  life  so  beautiful  and  holy,  so  shut  out  from 
the  world,  with  all  its  cares  and  wickedness,  she 
says ;  so  quiet  and  peaceful,  so  full  of  devotion 
and  the  self-denial  the  Lord  Jesus  taught  when  he 
said,  '  If  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny 
himself  and  take  up  his  cross  and  follow  me.' 

"  Do  you  think  leaving  one's  dear  home  and 
father  and  mother,  and  brothers  and  sisters  to  be 
shut  up  for  life  with  strangers,  in  a  convent,  was 
the  cross  he  meant,  grandpa  ?  ' ' 

"No,  I  am  perfectly  sure  it  was  not;  the  Bible 
teaches  us  to  do  our  duty  in  the  place  where  God 
puts  us ;  it  recognizes  the  family  relationships ; 
teaches  the  reciprocal  duties  of  kinsmen,  parents 
and  children,  husbands  and  wives,  but  has  not  a 
word  to  say  to  monks  or  nuns. 

"  It  bids  us  take  up  the  cross  God  lays  upon  us, 
and  not  one  of  our  own  invention ;  nor  did  one  of 
the  holy  men  and  women  it  tells  of  live  the  life  of 
an  anchorite.  Nor  can  peace  and  freedom  from 
temptation  and  sin  be  found  in  a  convent  any  more 
than  elsewhere ;  because  we  carry  our  evil  natures 
with  us  wherever  we  go." 

"  No ;  peace  and  happiness  are  to  be  found  only 
in  being  '  followers  of  God  as  dear  children,'  doing 
our  duty  in  that  station  in  life  where  he  has  placed 
us ;  our  motive  love  to  him ;  leading  us  to  desire 
above  all  things  to  live  to  his  honor  and  glory." 
Violet  sat  with  downcast  eyes,  her  face  full  of 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  193 

earnest  thought.  She  was  silent  for  a  moment  after 
Mr.  Dinsmore  had  ceased  speaking,  then  lifting 
her  head  and  turning  to  him  with  a  relieved  look, 
"Thank  you,  grandpa,"  she  said.  "I  am  fully 
satisfied  on  that  point.  Now,  there  is  just  one 
more.  Isa  says  the  divisions  among  Protestants 
show  that  the  Bible  is  not  a  book  for  common  peo- 
ple to  read  for  themselves.  They  cannot  under- 
stand it  right ;  if  they  did  they  would  all  believe 
alike." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  smiled.  "  Who  is  to  explain  it  ?  '* 
he  asked. 

"  Oh,  Isa  says  that  is  for  the  priests  to  do;  and 
they  and  the  people  must  accept  the  decisions  of 
the  church." 

"Well,  my  child,  it  would  take  too  much  time 
to  tell  you  just  how  impossible  it  is  to  find  out  what 
are  the  authoritative  decisions  of  the  Romish 
Church  on  more  than  one  important  point ; — how 
one  council  would  contradict  another — one  pope 
affirm  what  his  predecessors  had  denied,  and  vice 
versa  ;  councils  contradict  popes,  and  popes  coun- 
cils. 

"As  to  the  duty  of  studying  the  Bible  for  our- 
selves— we  have  the  master's  own  command, 
'Search  the  Scriptures,'  which  settles  the  question 
at  once  for  all  his  obedient  disciples.  And  no  one 
who  sets  himself  to  the  work  humbly  and  teachably, 
looking  to  the  Holy  Spirit  for  enlightenment,  will 
fail   to  find   the  path  to  heaven.      '  The  way-faring 


94  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

men,  though  fools  shall  not  err  therein.'  Jesus 
said  '  The  Comforter  which  is  the  Holy  Ghost, 
whom  the  Father  will  send  in  my  name,  he  shall 
teach  you  all  things.' 

"And,  my  child,  none  of  us  is  responsible  for 
the  interpretation  that  his  neighbor  puts  upon 
God's  word, — his  letter  addressed  to  us  all ;  each 
of  us  must  give  account  of  himself  to  God." 

Violet's  doubts  and  perplexities  had  vanished 
like  morning  mist  before  the  rising  sun ;  her  nat- 
ural gayety  of  spirits  returned,  and  she  became 
again  as  was  her  wont,  the  sunshine  of  the  house, 
full  of  life  and  hope,  with  a  cheery  word  and  sunny 
smile  for  every  one,  from  Mr.  Daly  down  to  Rosie, 
and  from  Aunt  Chloe  to  the  youngest  child  at  the 
■quarter. 

She  had  not  been  so  happy  since  the  departure 
of  her  parents. 

Eddie,  Molly  and  the  younger  ones,  reflected  in 
some  measure  her  bright  hopefulness,  and  the  re- 
newed ardor  with  which  she  pursued  her  studies, 
and  for  some  days  all  went  on  prosperously  at 
Ion. 

Then  came  a  change. 

One  evening,  Vi,  having  seen  Rosie  in  bed,  and 
bade  Harold  and  Herbert  good-night  also,  re- 
turned to  the  schoolroom,  where  Eddie  and  their 
cousin  were  busied  with  their  preparations  for  the 
morrow's  recitations. 

She  had  settled  herself  before  her  desk,  and  was 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  195 

taking  out  her  books,  when  the  sound  of  horses' 
hoofs  coming  swiftly  up  the  avenue,  caused  her  to 
spring  up  and  run  to  the  window. 

"It  is  grandpa,"  she  said.  "  He  seldom  comes 
so  late,  oh,  Eddie  !  "  and  she  dropped  into  a  chair, 
her  heart  beating  wildly. 

"Don't  be  alarmed,"  Eddie  said,  rising  and 
coming  toward  her,  his  own  voice  trembling  with 
apprehension,  "it  may  be  good  news  again." 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  so?     Can  it  be?"  she  asked. 

"Surely,  Vi,  uncle  would  come  as  fast  as  possi- 
ble if  he  had  good  news  to  bring,"  said  Molly. 
"Perhaps  it  is  that  they  are  coming  home;  it  is 
getting  so  late  in  the  fall  now,  that  I'm  expecting 
every  day  to  hear  that." 

"Let's  go  down  to  grandpa,"  said  Vi,  rising, 
while  a  faint  color  stole  into  her  cheek,  which  had 
grown  very  pale  at  the  thought  that  the  little  pet 
sister  might  be  dead  or  dying.  "No,  no,"  as  a 
step  was  heard  on  the  stairs,  "  he  is  coming  to  us." 

The  door  opened,  and  Mr.  Dinsmore  entered. 
One  look  into  his  grief-stricken  face,  and  Violet 
threw  herself  into  his  arms,  and  wept  upon  his 
breast. 

He  soothed  her  with  silent  caresses ;  his  heart 
almost  too  full  for  speech;  but  at  length,  "It  is 
not  the  worst,"  he  said  in  low,  moved  tones,  "she 
lives,  but  has  had  a  relapse,  and  they  are  bringing 
her  home." 

"  Home  to  die  !  "  echoed  Violet's  heart,  and  she 


196  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

clung  about  her  grandfather's  neck,  weeping  al- 
most convulsively. 

Tears  coursed  down  Molly's  cheeks  also,  and 
Eddie,  hardly  less  overcome  than  his  sister,  asked 
tremulously,  "  How  soon  may  we  expect  them, 
grandpa?  " 

"In  about  two  days,  I  think;  and  my  dear 
children,  we  must  school  ourselves  to  meet  Lily 
with  calmness  and  composure,  lest  we  injure,  by 
exciting  and  agitating  her.  We  must  be  prepared 
to  find  her  more  feeble  than  when  she  went  away, 
and  much  exhausted  by  the  fatigue  of  the  journey." 

Worse  than  when  she  went  away  !  and  even  then 
the  doctors  gave  no  hope  !  It  was  almost  as  if  they' 
already  saw  her  lying  lifeless  before  them. 

They  wept  themselves  to  sleep  that  night,  and 
in  the  morning  it  was  as  though  death  had  already 
entered  the  house ;  a  solemn  stillness  reigned  in  all 
its  rooms,  and  the  quiet  tread,  the  sad,  subdued 
tones,  the  oft  falling  tear,  attested  the  warmth  of 
affection  in  which  the  dear,  dying  child  was  held. 

A  parlor  car  was  speeding  southward  ;  its  occu- 
pants, a  noble  looking  man,  a  lovely  matron,  a 
blooming,  beautiful  girl  of  seventeen,  a  rosy  babe 
in  his  nurse's  arms,  and  a  pale,  fragile,  golden- 
haired,  blue-eyed  child  of  seven,  lying  now  on  a 
couch  with  her  head  in  her  mother's  lap,  now  rest- 
ing in  her  father's  arms  for  a  little. 

She  seemed  the  central  figure  of  the  group,  all 
eyes  turning  ever  and  anon,  upon  her  in  tenderest 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  197 

solicitude,  every  ear  attentive  to  her  slightest 
plaint,  every  hand  ready  to  minister  to  her  wants. 

She  was  very  quiet,  very  patient,  answering 
their  anxious,  questioning  words  and  looks  with 
many  a  sweet,  affectionate  smile  or  whisper  of 
grateful  appreciation  of  their  ministry  of  love. 

Sometimes  she  would  beg  to  be  lifted  up  for  a 
moment  that  she  might  see  the  rising  or  setting  sun, 
or  gaze  upon  the  autumnal  glories  of  the  woods, 
and  as  they  drew  near  their  journey's  end  she 
would  ask,  "Are  we  almost  there,  papa?  shall  I 
soon  see  my  own  sweet  home,  and  dear  brothers 
and  sisters?  " 

At  last  the  answer  was,  "  Yes,  my  darling  ;  in  a 
few  moments  we  shall  leave  the  car  for  our  own  easy 
carriage,  and  one  short  stage  will  take  us  home  to 
Ion." 

Mr.  Dinsmore,  his  son,  and  Arthur  Conly  met 
them  at  the  station,  and  told  how  longingly  their 
dear  ones  at  home  were  looking  for  them. 

The  sun  had  set,  and  shadows  began  to  creep  over 
the  landscape  as  the  carriage  stopped  before  the  door 
and  Lily  was  lifted  out,  borne  into  the  house  and 
gently  laid  upon  her  own  little  bed. 

She  was  nearly  fainting  with  fatigue  and  weak- 
ness, and  dearly  as  the  others  were  loved,  father 
and  mother  had  no  eyes  for  any  but  her,  no  word 
of  greeting,  as  the  one  bore  her  past,  the  other 
hastily  followed,  with  the  doctor  and  grandfather, 
to  her  room. 


198  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

But  Elsie  and  Vi  were  quickly  locked  in  each 
other's  arms,  mingling  their  tears  together,  while 
Rosie  and  the  boys  gathered  round,  awaiting  their 
turn. 

"Oh  !  "  sobbed  Rosie,  "mamma  didn't  speak 
to  me;  she  didn't  look  at  me;  she  doesn't  love  me 
any  more ;  nor  my  papa  either." 

"Yes,  they  do,  little  pet,"  Elsie  said,  leaving 
Violet  to  embrace  the  little  sister;  "  and  sister  Elsie 
loves  you  dearly,  dearly.  Harold  and  Herbert 
too;  as  well  as  our  big  oldest  brother,"  smiling  up 
at  Eddie  through  her  tears,  as  he  stood  by  her 
side. 

He  bent  down  to  kiss  her  sweet  lips. 

"  Lily?  "  he  said  in  a  choking  voice. 

With  a  great  effort  Elsie  controlled  her  emotion, 
and  answered  low  and  tremulously,  "She  is  almost 
done  with  pain.  She  is  very  happy — no  doubt,  no 
fear,  only  gladness  that  soon  she  will  be 

'  Safe  in  the  arms  of  Jesus, 
Safe  on  his  gentle  breast.'  " 

Eddie  turned  away  with  a  broken  sob.  Vi 
uttered  a  low  cry  of  anguish ;  and  Rosie  and  the 
boys  broke  into  a  wail  of  sorrow. 

Till  that  moment  they  had  not  given  up  hope 
that  the  dear  one  might  even  yet  be  restored. 

In  the  sick-room  the  golden  head  lay  on  a  snow 
white  pillow,  the  blue  eyes  were  closed,  and  the 
breath  came  pantingly  from  the  pale,  parted  lips. 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  199 

''Cousin  Arthur"  had  his  finger  on  the  slender 
tvrist,  counting  its  pulsations,  while  father  and 
grandfather  stood  looking  on  in  anxious  solicitude, 
and  the  mother  bent  over  her  fading  flower,  asking 
in  tender  whispered  accents,  "are  you  in  pain,  my 
darling  ?  " 

"  No,  mamma,  only  so  tired  ;  so  tired  !  " 

Only  the  mother's  quick  ear,  placed  close  to  the 
pale  lips,  could  catch  the  low-breathed  words. 

The  doctor  administered  a  cordial,  then  a  little 
nourishment  was  given,  and  the  child  fell  asleep. 

The  mother  sat  watching  her,  lost  to  all  else  in 
the  world.  Arthur  came  to  her  side  with  a  whis- 
pered word  about  her  own  need  of  rest  and  refresh- 
ment after  her  fatiguing  journey. 

"How  long?"  she  asked  in  the  same  low  tone, 
glancing  first  at  the  white  face  on  the  pillow,  then 
at  him. 

"Some  days,  I  hope;  and  she  is  likely  now  to 
sleep  for  hours.     Let  me  take  your  pla<    ." 

Elsie  bent  over  the  child,  listening  for  a  moment 
to  her  breathing,  then  accepting  his  offer,  followed 
her  husband  and  father  from  the  room. 

Rosic,  waiting  and  watching  in  the  hall  without, 
sprang  to  her  mother's  embrace  with  a  low,  joyful 
cry,  "  Mamma,  mamma  !  oh,  you've  been  gone 
so  long,  so  long!  I  thought  you'd  never  come 
back." 

"Mamma  is  very  glad  to  be  with  you  again," 
Elsie  said,  holding  her  close  for  a  moment,  then 


200  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

resigning  her  to  her  father,  she  sought  the  others, 
all  near  at  hand,  and  waiting  eagerly  for  a  sight  of 
her  loved  face,  a  word  from  her  gentle  lips. 

They  were  all  longing  for  one  of  the  old  con- 
fidential talks,  Violet,  perhaps,  more  than  the 
others ;  but  it  could  not  be  now,  the  mother 
could  scarcely  allow  herself  time  for  a  little  rest, 
ere  she  must  return  to  her  station  by  the  side  of  the 
sick  bed. 

But  Molly  was  not  forgotten  or  neglected.  Elsie- 
went  to  her  with  kind  inquiries,  loving  cheering 
words  and  a  message  from  Dick,  whom  she  had 
seen  a  few  days  before. 

Molly  sat  thinking  it  over  gratefully,  after  her 
cousin  had  left  the  room. 

"  How  kind  and  thoughtful  for  others  she  is  !  how 
sweet  and  gentle,  how  patient  and  resigned.  I  will 
try  to  be  more  like  her.  How  truly  she  obeys  the 
command  '  Be  pitiful,  be  courteous.' 

"But  why  should  one  so  lovely,  so  devoted  a 
Christian,  be  visited  with  so  sore  a  trial  ?  I  can  see 
why  my  trials  were  sent.  I  was  so  proud  and 
worldly;  and  they  were  necessary  to  show  me  my 
need  of  Jesus ;  but  she  has  loved  and  leaned  upon 
him  since  she  was  a  little  child." 


CHAPTER  TWENTIETH. 

"  Let  them  die, 
Let  them  die  now,  thy  children !  so  thy  heart 
Shall  wear  their  beautiful  image  all  undimm'd 
Within  it  to  the  last." 

—Mrs.  Hemans. 

Lily  seemed  a  little  stronger  in  the  morning,  and 
the  brothers  and  sisters  were  allowed  to  go  in  by 
turns  and  speak  to  her. 

Violet  chose  to  be  the  last,  thinking  that  would, 
perhaps,  secure  a  little  longer  interview. 

Lily  with  mamma  by  her  side,  lay  propped  up 
with  pillows — her  eyes  bright,  a  lovely  color  on 
her  almost  transparent  cheek,  her  luxurious  hair 
lying  about  her  like  heaps  of  shining  gold,  her  red 
lips  smiling  a  joyous  welcome,  as  Vi  stooped  over 
her. 

Could  it  be  that  she  was  dying? 

"Oh,  darling,  you  may  get  well  even  yet?" 
cried  \"i,  in  tones  tremulous  with  joy  and  hope. 

Lily  smiled,  and  stroked  her  sister's  face  lovingly 
with  her  little  thin  white  hand. 

Violet  was  startled  by  its  scorching  heat. 

"You  are  burning  up  with  fever!"  she  ex- 
claimed, tears  gushing  from  her  eyes. 

"Yes;  but  I  shall  soon  be  well,"  said  the  child 
201 


202  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

clasping  her  sister  close;  "I'm  going  home  to  the 
happy  land  to  be  with  Jesus,  Vi ;  oh,  don't  you 
wish  you  were  going  too?  Mamma  I'm  tired; 
please  tell  Vi  my  text." 

"  'And  the  inhabitant  shall  not  say,  I  am  sick; 
the  people  that  dwell  therein  shall  be  forgiven  their 
iniquity,'  "  the  mother  repeated  in  a  low  sweet 
voice. 

"For  Jesus'  sake,"  softly  added  the  dying  one. 
"He  has  loved  me  and  washed  me  from  my  sins 
in  his  own  blood." 

Vi  fell  on  her  knees  by  the  bedside,  and  buried 
her  face  in  the  clothes,  vainly  trying  to  stifle  her 
bursting  sobs. 

"Poor  Vi,"  sighed  Lily.  "Mamma,  comfort 
her." 

Mamma  drew  the  weeper  to  her  bosom,  and 
spoke  tenderly  to  her  of  the  loving  Saviour  and 
the  home  he  has  gone  to  prepare  for  his  people. 

"  Our  darling  will  be  so  safe  and  happy  there," 
she  said,  "  and  she  is  glad  to  go,  to  rest  in  his 
bosom,  and  wait  there  for  us,  as,  in  his  own  good 
time,  he  shall  call  one  after  another  to  himself. 

'  'Tis  there  we'll  meet, 
At  Jesus'  feet, 
When  we  meet  to  part  no  more.'  " 

Tears  were  coursing  down  the  mother's  cheeks 
as  she  spoke,  but  her  manner  was  calm  and  quiet. 
To  her,  as  to  her  child  standing  upon  the  very 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  203 

brink  of  Jordan,  heaven  seemed  very  near,  very 
real,  and  while  mourning  that  soon  that  beloved 
face  and  form  would  be  seen  no  more  on  earth  she 
rejoiced  with  joy  unspeakable,  for  the  blessedness 
that  should  be  hers  forever  and  forevermore. 

There  were  no  tears  in  Lily's  eyes,  "Mamma, 
I'm  so  happy,"  she  said  smiling.  "  Dear  Vi,  you 
must  be  glad  for  me  and  not  cry  so.  I  have  no 
pain  to-day;  and  I'll  never  have  any  more  when  I 
get  home  where  the  dear  Saviour  is.  Mamma, 
please  read  about  the  beautiful  city." 

Elsie  took  up  the  Bible  that  lay  beside  the 
pillow,  and  opening  at  the  Revelation,  read  its 
last  two  chapters — the  twenty-first  and  twenty- 
second. 

Lily  lay  intently  listening,  Violet's  hand  fast 
clasped  in  hers. 

"  Darling  Vi,"  she  whispered,  "  you  love  Jesus, 
don't  you  ?  " 

Violet  nodded  assent :   she  could  not  speak. 

"  And  you're  willing  to  let  him  have  me,  aren't 
you,  dear?  " 

"Yes,  yes,"  but  the  tears  fell  fast,  and  "Oh, 
what  shall  I  do  without  you?"  she  cried  with  a 
choking  sob. 

"  It  won't  be  long,"  said  Lily.  "  Mamma  says 
it  will  seem  only  a  very  little  while  when  it  is 
past." 

Her  voice  sank  with  the  last  words,  and  she 
closed  her  eyes  with  a  weary  sigh. 


204  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"Go,  dear  daughter,  go  away  for  the  present," 
the  mother  said  to  Violet,  who  instantly  obeyed. 

Lily  lingered  for  several  days,  suffering  little  ex- 
cept from  weakness,  always  patient  and  cheerful, 
talking  so  joyfully  of  "  going  home  to  Jesus," 
that  death  seemed  robbed  of  all  its  gloom  ;  for  it 
was  not  of  the  grave  they  thought  in  connection 
with  her,  but  of  the  glories  of  the  upper  sanctuary, 
the  bliss  of  those  who  dwell  forever  with  the 
Lord. 

Father,  brothers  and  sisters  often  gathered  for  a 
little  while  about  her  bed ;  for  she  dearly  loved 
them  all ;  but  the  mother  scarcely  left  her  day  or 
night ;  the  mother  whose  gentle  teachings  had 
guided  her  childish  feet  into  the  path  that  leads  to 
God,  whose  ministry  of  love  had  made  the  short 
life  bright  and  happy,  spite  of  weakness  and  pain. 

It  was  in  the  early  morning  that  the  end  came. 

She  had  been  sleeping  quietly  for  some  hours, 
sleeping  while  darkness  passed  away  till  day  had 
fully  dawned  and  the  east  was  flushing  with  crimson 
and  gold. 

Her  mother  sat  by  the  bedside  gazing  with 
tender  glistening  eyes  upon  the  little  wan  face, 
thinking  how  placid  was  its  expression,  what  an 
almost  unearthly  beauty  it  wore,  when  suddenly 
the  large  azure  eyes  opened  wide,  gazing  steadily 
into  hers,  while  the  sweetest  smile  played  about  the 
lips. 

"  Mamma,  dear  mamma,  how  good  you've  been 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  205 

to  me  !  Jesus  is  here,  he  has  come  for  me.  I'm 
going  now.  Dear,  darling  mamma,  kiss  me  good- 
bye." 

"My  darling!  my  darling!"  Elsie  cried, 
pressing  a  kiss  of  passionate  love  upon  the  sweet 
lips. 

"Dear  mamma,"  they  faintly  whispered — and 
were  stiil. 

Kneeling  by  the  bedside,  Elsie  gathered  the 
little  wasted  form  in  her  arms,  pillowing  the  beauti- 
ful golden  head  upon  her  bosom,  while  again  and 
again  she  kissed  the  pale  brow,  the  cheeks,  the 
lips;  then  laying  it  down  gently  she  stood  gazing 
upon  it  with  unutterable  love  and  mingled  joy  and 
anguish. 

"  It  was  well  with  the  child,"  and  no  rebellious 
thought  arose  in  her  heart,  but  ah,  what  an  ach- 
ing void  was  there  !  how  empty  were  her  arms, 
though  so  many  of  her  darlings  were  still  spared 
to  her. 

A  quiet  step  drew  near,  a  strong  arm  was  passed 
about  her  waist,  and  a  kind  hand  drew  her  head  to 
a  resting-place  on  her  husband's  breast. 

"Is  it  so?"  he  said  in  moved  tones,  gazing 
through  a  mist  of  tears  upon  the  quiet  face  of  the 
young  sleeper.  "Ah,  darling,  our  precious  lamb 
is  safely  folded  at  last.  He  has  gathered  her  in 
his  arms  and  is  carrying  her  in  his  bosom." 

There  was  no  bitterness  in  the  tears  that  were 
shed   to   the  memory  of  little  Lily;   her  short  life 


206  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

had  been  so  full  of  suffering,  her  passing  away  was 
so  joyful  that  they  must  rejoice  for  her  even  while 
they  wept  for  their  own  heavy  loss. 

They  laid  her  body  in  the  family  burialground 
and  mamma  and  the  children  went  very  often  to 
scatter  flowers  upon  the  graves,  reserving  the  fairest 
and  sweetest  for  the  little  mound  that  looked  so 
fresh  and  new. 

"  But  she  is  not  here,"  Rosie  would  say,  "  she's 
gone  to  the  dear  home  above  where  Jesus  is.  And 
she's  so  happy.  She'll  never  be  sick  any  more 
because  it  says,  '  Neither  shall  there  be  any  more 
pain.'  " 

Lily  was  never  spoken  of  as  lost  or  as  dead ; 
she  had  only  gone  before  to  the  happy  land  whither 
they  all  were  journeying,  and  where  they  should 
find  her  again  blooming  and  beautiful ;  they  spoke 
of  her  often  and  with  cheerfulness,  though  tears 
would  sometimes  fall  at  the  thought  that  the  sepa- 
ration must  be  so  long. 

Elsie  was  much  worn  out  with  the  long  nursing, 
which  she  would  not  resign  to  other  hands,  and,  as 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Daly  were  well  pleased  to  have  it  so 
arranged,  they  still  retained  their  posts  in  the 
household. 

But  the  children  again  enjoyed  the  pleasant 
evening  talks,  and  the  prized  morning  half  hour 
with  mamma.  They  might  go  to  her  at  other 
times  also,  and  it  was  not  long  before  Vi  found  an 
opportunity  to  unburden  her  mind  by  a  full  ac- 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  207 

count  of  all  the  doubts  and  perplexities  that  had  so 
troubled  her,  and  the  manner  in  which  they  had 
been  removed,  to  her  great  comfort  and  peace. 

It  was  in  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  after 
the  funeral,  the  two  older  girls  being  alone  with 
their  mother  in  her  boudoir. 

Elsie  was  startled  at  the  thought  of  the  peril  her 
child  had  been  in. 

"I  blame  myself,"  she  said,  "that  I  have  not 
guarded  you  more  carefully  against  these  fearful 
errors.  We  will  now  take  up  the  subject  together, 
my  children  and  I,  and  study  it  thoroughly ;  and 
we  will  invite  Isa  and  Virgy  to  join  with  us  in  our 
search  after  truth." 

"Molly  also,  mamma,  if  she  is  willing,"  sug- 
gested her  namesake  daughter. 

"Certainly;  but  I  count  her  among  my  chil- 
dren. Ah,  I  have  not  seen  her  for  several  days  ! 
I  fear  she  has  been  feeling  neglected.  I  will  go  to 
her  now,"  she  added,  rising  from  the  couch  on 
which  she  had  been  reclining.  "And  you  may 
both  go  with  me,  if  you  wish." 

Isa  had  been  with  Molly  for  the  last  half 
hour. 

"I  came  on  that  unpleasant  business  of  making 
a  call  of  condolence,"  she  announced  on  her 
entrance,  "but  they  told  me  Cousin  Elsie  was 
lying  down  to  rest  and  her  girls  were  with  her — 
Elsie  and  Vi — so  not  wishing  to  disturb  them,  I'll 
visit  with  you  first,  if  you  like." 


2o8  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you,"  Molly  said.  "Please 
be  seated." 

Isadore  seemed  strangely  embarrassed  and  sat 
for  some  moments  without  speaking. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Isa?"  Molly  asked  at 
length. 

"  I  think  it  was  really  unkind  in  mamma  to  send 
me  on  this  errand  ;  it  was  her  place  to  come,  but 
she  said  Cousin  Elsie  was  so  bound  up  in  that  child 
that  she  would  be  overwhelmed  with  grief,  and  she 
(mamma)  would  not  know  what  to  say;  she  al- 
ways found  it  the  most  awkward  thing  in  the 
world  to  try  to  console  people  under  such  afflic- 
tions." 

"It  will  not  be  at  all  necessary,"  returned 
Molly  dryly.  "Cousin  Elsie  has  all  the  consola- 
tion she  needs.  She  came  to  me  for  a  few  mo- 
ments the  very  day  Lily  died,  and  though  I  could 
see  plainly  that  she  had  been  weeping,  her  face  was 
perfectly  calm  and  peaceful ;  and  she  told  me  that 
her  heart  sang  for  joy  when  she  thought  of  her 
darling's  blessedness." 

Isa  looked  very  thoughtful. 

"  I  wish  I  were  sure  of  it,"  she  said  half  uncon- 
sciously ;    "  she  was  such  a  dear  little  thing." 

"Sure  of  what?"  cried  Molly  indignantly; 
"  can  you  doubt  for  a  moment  that  that  child  is  in 
heaven  ?  ' ' 

"  If  she  had  only  been  baptized  into  the  true 
church.     But  there,  don't  look  so  angry  !   how  can 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  209 

I  help  wishing  it  when  I  know  it's  the  only  way  to 
be  saved?  " 

"But  you  don't  know  it!  you  can't  know  it, 
because  it  isn't  so.  O  Isadore,  how  could  you 
turn  Papist  and  then  try  to  turn  Violet  ?  " 

"So  you've  heard  about  it?  I  supposed  you 
had,"  said  Isadore  coloring.  "  I  suppose  too,  that 
Cousin  Elsie  is  very  angry  with  me,  and  that  was 
why  I  thought  it  so  unkind  in  mamma  to  send  me 
in  her  place,  making  an  excuse  of  a  headache  ;  not 
a  bad  enough  one  to  prevent  her  coming,  I'm 
sure." 

"  I  don't  know  how  Cousin  Elsie  feels  about  it, 
or  even  whether  she  has  heard  it,"  said  Molly; 
"though  I  presume  she  has,  as  Vi  never  conceals 
anything  from  her." 

"Well  I've  only  done  my  duty  and  can't  feel 
that  I'm  deserving  of  blame,"  said  Isadore.  "  But 
such  a  time  as  I've  had  of  it  since  my  conversion 
became  known  in  the  family  !  " 

"Your  perversion,  you  should  say,"  interrupted 
Molly.      "  Was  Aunt  Louise  angry?" 

"Very;  but  principally,  I  could  see,  because 
she  knew  grandpa  and  Uncle  Horace  would  re- 
proach her  for  sending  me  to  the  convent." 

"And  did  they?  " 

"Yes,  grandpa  was  furious,  and  of  course  uncle 
said,  'I  told  you  so."  lie  has  only  reasoned  with 
me,  though  he  let  me  know  he  was  very  much  dis- 
pleased about   Vi.      Cal  and  Art,  too,  have  under- 


210  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

taken  to  convince  me  of  my  errors,  while  Virginia 
sneers  and  asks  why  I  could  not  be  content  to  re- 
main a  Protestant ;  and  altogether  I've  had  a  sweet 
time  of  it  for  the  last  two  weeks." 

"There's  a  tap  at  the  door;  will  you  please 
open  it?"  said  Molly. 

It  was  Mrs.  Travilla,  Elsie  and  Violet  whom 
Isadore  admitted.  She  recognized  them  with  a 
deep  blush  and  an  embarrassed,  deprecating  air ; 
for  the  thought  instantly  struck  her  that  Vi  had 
probably  just  been  telling  her  mother  what  had  oc- 
curred during  her  absence. 

"Ah,  Isa,  I  did  not  know  you  were  here,"  her 
cousin  said  taking  her  hand.  "  I  am  pleased  to 
see  you." 

The  tone  was  gentle  and  kind  and  there  was  not 
a  trace  of  displeasure  in  look  or  manner. 

"Thank  you,  cousin,"  Isa  said,  trying  to  re- 
cover her  composure.  "I  came  to — mamma  has 
a  headache,  and  sent  me " 

"  Yes  ;  never  mind,  I  know  all  you  would  say," 
Elsie  answered,  tears  trembling  in  her  soft  brown 
eyes,  but  a  look  of  perfect  peace  and  resignation 
on  her  sweet  face  ;  "  you  feel  for  my  sorrow,  and  I 
thank  you  for  your  sympathy.  But  Isa,  the  conso- 
lations of  God  are  not  small  with  me,  and  I  know 
that  my  little  one  is  safe  with  him. 

"  Molly,  my  child,  how  are  you  to-day?  " 

"Very  well,  thank  you,"  Molly  answered,  cling- 
ing to  the  hand  that  was  offered  her,  and  looking 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  211 

up  with  dewy  eyes  into  the  calm,  beautiful  face 
bending  over  her.  "  How  kind  you  are  to  think 
of  me  at  such  a  time  as  this.  Ah  cousin,  it  puzzles 
me  to  understand  why  afflictions  should  be  sent  to 
one  who  already  seems  almost  an  angel  in  good- 
ness." 

Elsie  shook  her  head.  "  You  cannot  see  my 
heart,  Molly ;  and  the  Master  knows  just  how 
many  strokes  of  his  chisel  are  needed  to  fashion 
the  soul  in  his  image ;  he  will  not  make  one  too 
many.  Besides  should  I  grudge  him  one  of  the 
many  darlings  he  has  given  me  ?  or  her  the  bliss  he 
has  taken  her  to  ?  Ah  no,  no  !  his  will  be  done 
with  me  and  mine." 

She  sat  down  upon  a  sofa,  and  making  room  for 
Isa,  who  had  been  exchanging  greetings  with  her 
younger  cousins,  invited  her  to  a  seat  by  her 
side. 

"I  want  to  talk  with  you,"  she  said  gently, 
"Vi  has  been  telling  me  everything.  Ah,  do  not 
think  I  have  any  reproaches  for  you,  though  noth- 
ing could  have  grieved  me  more  than  your  success 
in  what  you  attempted." 

She  then  went  on  to  give,  in  her  own  gentle, 
kindly  way,  good  and  sufficient  reasons  for  her 
dread  and  hatred  of — not  Papists — but  Popery,  and 
concluded  by  inviting  Isa  to  join  with  them  in  a 
thorough  investigation  of  its  arrogant  claims. 

Isa  consented,  won  by  her  cousin's  generous  for- 
bearance and   affectionate  interest  in  her  welfare, 


212  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

and  arrangements  were  made  to  begin  the  very 
next  day. 

Molly's  writing  desk  stood  open  on  the  table  by 
her  side,  and  Violet's  bright  eyes  catching  sight  of 
the  address  on  a  letter  lying  there,  "  Oh,  cousin, 
have  you  heard?  "  she  exclaimed,  "  and  is  it  good 
news? " 

"Yes,"  replied  Molly,  a  flush  of  pride  and 
pleasure  mantling  her  cheek.  "  I  should  have  told 
you  at  once,  if — under  ordinary  circumstances  ; — 

but "   and  her  eyes  filled  as  she  turned  them 

upon  Mrs.  Travilla. 

"  Dear  child,  I  am  interested  now  and  always  in 
all  your  pains  and  pleasures,"  responded  the  latter, 
"and  shall  heartily  rejoice  in  any  good  that  has 
come  to  you." 

Then  Molly,  blushing  and  happy,  explained  that 
she  had  been  using  her  spare  time  for  months  past, 
in  making  a  translation  of  a  French  story,  had  of- 
fered it  for  publication,  and,  after  weeks  of  anxious 
waiting,  had  that  morning  received  a  letter  an- 
nouncing its  acceptance,  and  enclosing  a  check  for 
a  hundred  dollars. 

"  My  dear  child,  I  am  proud  of  you — of  the  en- 
ergy, patience  and  perseverance  you  have  shown," 
her  cousin  said  warmly,  and  with  a  look  of  great 
gratification.  "Success,  so  gained,  must  be  very 
sweet,  and  I  offer  you  my  hearty  congratulations." 

The  younger  cousins  added  theirs,  Elsie  and  Vi 
rejoicing  as  at  a  great  good  to  themselves,  and  Isa 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  213 

expressing  extreme  surprise  at  the  discovery  that 
Molly  had  attained  to  so  much  knowledge,  and 
possessed  sufficient  talent  for  such  an  undertak- 
ing. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIRST. 

"  Vice  is  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mien, 
As  to  be  hated  needs  but  to  be  seen ; 
Yet  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  her  face, 
We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace." 

— Pope. 

The  winter  and  spring  passed  very  quietly  at 
Ion.  At  Roselands  there  was  more  gayety,  the 
girls  going  out  frequently,  and  receiving  a  good 
deal  of  company  at  home. 

Virginia  was  seldom  at  Ion,  but  Isadore  spent  an 
hour  there  almost  every  day  pursuing  the  investiga- 
tion proposed  by  her  Cousin  Elsie. 

She  was  an  honest  and  earnest  inquirer  after 
truth,  and  at  length  acknowledged  herself  entirely 
convinced  of  the  errors  into  which  she  had  been 
led,  entirely  restored  to  the  evangelical  faith ;  and 
more  than  that,  she  became  a  sincere  and  devoted 
Christian ;  much  to  the  disgust  and  chagrin  of  her 
worldly-minded  mother  and  Aunt  Delaford,  who 
would  have  been  far  better  pleased  to  see  her  a 
mere  butterfly  of  fashion,  as  were  her  sister  and 
,most  of  her  younger  friends. 

But  to  her  brother  Arthur,  and  at  both  the  Oaks 
and  Ion,  the  change  in  Isa  was  a  source  of  deep 
joy  and  thankfulness. 

214 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  215 

Also  it  was  the  means  of  leading  Calhoun,  who 
had  long  been  halting  between  two  opinions,  to 
come  out  decidedly  upon  the  Lord's  side. 

Old  Mr.  Dinsmore  had  become  quite  infirm,  and 
Cal  now  took  entire  charge  of  the  plantation. 
Arthur  was  busy  in  his  profession,  and  Walter  was 
at  West  Point  preparing  to  enter  the  army. 

Herbert  and  Meta  Carrington  were  at  the  North  ; 
the  one  attending  college,  the  other  at  boarding- 
school.  Old  Mrs.  Carrington  was  still  living; 
making  her  home  at  Ashlands ;  and  through  her, 
the  Rosses  were  frequently  heard  from. 

They  were  still  enjoying  a  large  measure  of 
worldly  prosperity,  Mr.  Ross  being  a  very  success- 
ful merchant.  He  had  taken  his  son  Philip  into 
partnership  a  year  ago,  and  Lucy's  letter  spoke 
much  of  the  lad  as  delighting  his  father  and  her- 
self, by  his  business  ability  and  shrewdn 

The}'  had  their  city  residence,  as  well  as  their 
countiy  se  Gertrude  had  made  her  debut  into 
fashionable  society  in  the  fall,  and  spent  a  very 
gay  winter,  and  the  occasional  letters  she  wrote  to 
the  younger  Elsie,  were  filled  with  descriptions  of 
the  balls,  parties,  operas  and  theatricals  she  at- 
tended, the  splendors  of  her  own  attire,  and  the 
elegant  dresses  worn  by  others. 

It  may  be  that  at  another  time  Elsie,  so  unaccus- 
tomed to  worldly  pleasures,  would  have  found  these 
subjects  interesting  from  their  very  novelty;  but 
now   while  the  parting   from   Lily  was  so  recent, 


2i6  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

when  her  happy  death  had  brought  the  glories  of 
heaven  so  near,  how  frivolous  they  seemed. 

They  had  more  attraction  for  excitable,  excite- 
ment-loving Violet ;  yet  even  she,  interested  for 
the  moment,  presently  forgot  them  again,  as  some- 
thing reminded  her  of  the  dear  little  sister,  who 
was  not  lost  but  gone  before  to  the  better 
land. 

Vi  had  a  warm,  loving  heart ;  no  one  could  be 
fonder  of  home,  parents,  brothers  and  sisters  than 
she,  but  as  spring  drew  on,  she  began  to  have  a 
restless  longing  for  change  of  scene  and  employ- 
ment. She  had  been  growing  fast,  and  felt  weak 
and  languid. 

Both  she  and  Elsie  had  attained  their  full  height, 
Vi  being  a  trifle  the  taller  of  the  two ;  they  grew 
daily  in  beauty  and  grace,  and  were  not  more 
lovely  in  person  than  in  character  and  mind. 

They  were  as  open  as  the  day  with  their  gentle, 
tender  mother,  and  their  fond,  proud  father — 
proud  of  his  lovely  wife,  and  his  sons  and  daugh- 
ters, whose  equals  he  truly  believed  were  not  to 
be  found  anywhere  throughout  the  whole  length  and 
breadth  of  the  land.  So  Vi  was  not  slow  in  telling 
of  her  desire  for  change. 

It  was  on  a  lovely  evening  in  May,  when  the 
whole  family  were  gathered  in  the  veranda, 
serenely  happy  in  each  other's  society,  the  babe  in 
his  mother's  arms,  Rosie  on  her  father's  knee,  the 
others  grouped   about   them,    doing    nothing   but 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  217 

enjoy  the  rest  and  quiet  after  a  busy  day  with  books 
and  work. 

Molly  in  her  wheeled  chair,  was  there  in  their 
midst,  feeling  herself  quite  one  of  them  and  looking 
as  contented  and  even  blithesome  as  any  of  the  rest. 
She  was  feeling  very  glad  over  her  success  in  a 
second  literary  venture,  thinking  of  Dick  too,  and 
how  delightful  it  would  be  if  she  could  only  talk  it 
all  over  with  him. 

He  had  told  her  in  his  last  letter  that  she  was 
making  him  proud  of  her,  and  what  a  thrill  of 
delight  the  words  had  given  her. 

"  Papa  and  mamma  I  "  exclaimed  Violet,  break- 
ing a  pause  in  the  conversation,  "home  is  very  dear 
and  sweet,  and  yet — I'm  afraid  I  ought  to  be 
ashamed  to  say  it,  but  I  do  want  to  go  away  some- 
where for  awhile,  to  the  seashore  I  think  ;  that  is 
if  we  can  all  go  and  be  together." 

"I  see  no  objection  if  all  would  like  it,"  her 
father  said,  with  an  indulgent  smile.  "  What  do 
you  say  to  the  plan,  little  wife?  " 

"I  echo  my  husband's  sentiments  as  a  good  wife 
should,"  she  answered  with  something  of  the 
sportiveness  of  other  days. 

"And  we  echo  yours,  mother,"  said  Edward. 
"  Do  we  not  ?  "  appealing  to  the  others. 

"  Oh  yes,  yes  !  "  they  cried,  "  a  summer  at  the 
seashore,  by  all  means." 

"Ina  cottage  home  of  our  own  ;  shall  it  not  be, 
papa  ?  "  added  El-ie. 


2i8  ELSJE'S  CHILDREN. 

"  Your  mamma  decides  all  such  questions,"  was 
his  smiling  rejoinder. 

"  I  approve  the  suggestion.  It  is  far  preferable 
to  hotel  life,"  she  said.  "Molly,  my  child,  you 
are  the  only  one  who  has  not  spoken." 

Molly's  bright  face  had  clouded  a  little.  "  I  want 
you  all  to  go  and  enjoy  yourselves,"  she  said, 
"though  I  shall  miss  you  sadly." 

"Miss  us  !  do  you  then  intend  to  decline  going 
along  ?  ' ' 

Molly  colored  and  hesitated ;  "  I'm  such  a 
troublesome  piece  of  furniture  to  move,"  she  said 
half  jestingly,  bravely  trying  to  cover  up  the  real 
pain  that  came  with  the  thought. 

"That  is  nothing,"  said  Mr.  Travilla,  so  gently 
and  tenderly  that  happy,  grateful  tears  sprang  to 
her  eyes  ;  "  you  go,  of  course,  with  the  rest  of  us  j 
unless  there  is  some  more  insuperable  objection — 
such  as  a  disinclination  on  your  part,  and  even  that 
should,  perhaps,  be  overruled ;  for  the  change 
would  do  you  good." 

"O  Molly  you  will  not  think  of  staying  be- 
hind?" 

"  We  should  miss  you  sadly,"  said  Elsie  and  Vi. 

"  And  if  you  go  you'll  see  Dick,"  suggested 
Eddie. 

Molly's  heart  bounded  at  the  thought.  "  Oh," 
she  said,  her  eyes  sparkling,  "how  delightful  that 
would  be  !  and  since  you  are  all  so  kind,  I'll  be 
glad,  very  glad  to  go." 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  219 

"Here  comes  grandpa's  carriage.  I'm  so 
glad  !  "  exclaimed  Herbert,  the  first  to  spy  it  as  it 
turned  in  at  the  avenue  gate.  "  Now  I  hope  they'll 
say  they'll  all  go  too." 

He  had  his  wish ;  the  carriage  contained  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Dinsmore,  their  son  and  daughter,  and  it 
soon  appeared  that  they  had  come  to  propose  the 
very  thing  Herbert  desired,  viz.,  that  adjacent  cot- 
tages at  the  seashore  should  be  engaged  for  the 
two  families,  and  all  spend  the  summer  there 
together. 

It  was  finally  arranged  that  the  Dinsmores 
should  precede  the  others  by  two  or  three  weeks, 
then  Mr.  Dinsmore  return  for  his  daughter  and 
her  family,  and  Mr.  Travilla  follow  a  little  later  in 
the  season. 

Also  that  the  second  party  should  make  their 
journey  by  water ;  it  would  be  easier  for  Molly, 
and  newer  to  all  than  the  land  route  which  they 
had  taken  much  oftener  in  going  North. 

"Dear  me,  how  I  wish  we  were  rich  !  "  ex- 
claimed Virginia  Conly  when  she  heard  of  it  the 
next  morning  at  breakfast,  from  Cal,  who  had 
spent  the  evening  at  Ion.  "I'd  like  nothing 
better  than  to  go  North  for  the  summer  ;  not  to  a 
dull,  prosy  life  in  a  cottage  though,  but  to  some  of 
the  grand  hotels  where  people  dress  splendidly  and 
have  hops  and  all  sorts  of  gay  times.  If  I  had  the 
means  I'd  go  to  the  seashore  for  a  few  weeks,  and 
then   off   to    Saratoga    for  the  rest  of  the  season. 


220  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

Mamma,  couldn't  we  manage  it  somehow  ?  You 
ought  to  give  Isa  and  me  every  advantage  possible, 
if  you  want  us  to  make  good  matches." 

"  I  shouldn't  need  persuasion  to  gratify  you,  if  I 
had  the  money,  Virginia,"  she  answered  dryly,  and 
with  a  significant  glance  at  her  father  and  sons. 

There  was  no  response  from  them ;  for  none  of 
them  felt  able  to  supply  the  coveted  funds. 

"  I  think  it  very  likely  Cousin  Elsie  will  invite 
you  to  visit  them,"  remarked  Arthur  at  length, 
breaking  the  silence  which  had  followed  his 
mother's  remark. 

"  I  shall  certainly  accept  if  she  does,"  said  Isa; 
"for  I  should  dearly  like  to  spend  the  summer 
with  her  there." 

"Making  garments  for  the  poor,  reading  good 
books  and  singing  psalms  and  hymns,"  remarked 
Virginia  with  a  contemptuous  sniff. 

"Very  good  employments,  all  of  them,"  re- 
turned Arthur  quietly,  "though  I  feel  safe  in  pre- 
dicting that  a  good  deal  more  time  will  be  spent  by 
the  Travillas  in  bathing,  riding,  driving,  boating 
and  fishing.  They  are  no  ascetics,  but  the 
most  cheerful,  happy  family  I  have  ever  come 
across. ' ' 

"  Yes,  it's  quite  astonishing  how  easily  they've 
taken  the  death  of  that  child,"  said  Mrs.  Conly, 
ill-naturedly. 

"Mother,  how  can  you!"  exclaimed  Arthur, 
indignant  at  the  insinuation. 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  221 

"  O  mamma,  no  one  could  think  for  a  moment 
it  was  from  want  of  affection  !  "  cried  Isadore. 

"I  have  not  said  so;  but  you  didn't  tell  me,  I 
suppose,  how  Molly  assured  you  her  cousin  had  no 
need  of  consolation  ?  ' ' 

"Yes,  mother,  but  it  was  that  her  grief  was 
swallowed  up  in  the  realizing  sense  of  the  bliss 
of  her  dear  departed  child.  Oh  they  all  talk  of 
her  to  this  day  with  glad  tears  in  their  eyes, — 
sorrowing  for  themselves  but  rejoicing  for  her." 

Elsie  did  give  a  cordial  invitation  to  her  aunt 
and  the  two  girls  to  spend  the  summer  with  her 
and  it  was  accepted  at  first,  but  declined  after- 
ward when  a  letter  came  from  Mrs.  Delaford, 
inviting  them  to  join  her  in  some  weeks'  sojourn, 
at  her  expense,  first  at  Cape  May  and  afterward  at 
Saratoga. 

It  would  be  the  gay  life  of  dressing,  dancing  and 
flirting  at  great  hotels,  for  which  Virginia  hungered, 
and  was  snat<  hed  at  with  great  avidity  by  herself 
and  her  mother. 

Isadore  would  have  preferred  to  be  with  the 
Travillas,  but  Mrs.  Conly  would  not  hear  of  it. 

"Aunt  Delaford  would  be  mortally  offended. 
And  then  the  idea  of  throwing  away  such  a 
chance !  Was  Isa  <  razy  ?  It  would  be  well 
enough  to  accept  Ebie's  offer  to  pay  their  travel- 
ing expenses  and  provide  each  with  a  handsome 
outfit ;  but  her  cottage  would  be  no  place  to  spend 
the    summer    in,    when    they    could    do    so    much 


222  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. J 

better ;  they  would  meet  few  gentlemen  there ; 
Elsie  and  Mr.  Travilla  were  so  absurdly  particular 
as  to  whom  they  admitted  to  an  acquaintance  with 
their  daughters;  if  there  was  the  slightest  sus- 
picion against  a  man's  moral  character,  he  might 
as  well  wish  for  the  moon  as  for  the  entree  to  their 
house ;  or  so  much  as  a  bowing  acquaintance  with 
Elsie  or  Vi.     It  was  really  too  absurd." 

"But,  mamma,"  expostulated  Isadore,  "surely 
you  would  not  be  willing  that  we  should  associate 
with  any  one  who  was  not  of  irreproachable  char- 
acter?" 

Mrs.  Conly  colored  and  looked  annoyed. 

"There  is  no  use  in  being  too  particular, 
Isadore,"  she  said,  "one  can't  expect  perfection; 
young  men  are  very  apt  to  be  a  little  wild,  and 
they  often  settle  down  afterward  into  very  good 
husbands." 

"Really,  I  don't  think  any  the  worse  of  a 
young  fellow  for  sowing  a  few  wild  oats,"  re- 
marked Virginia,  with  a  toss  of  her  head  :  "  they're 
a  great  deal  more  interesting  than  your  good  young 
men." 

"Such  as  Cal  and  Art,"  suggested  Isa,  smiling 
slightly.  "  Mamma,  don't  you  wish  they'd  be  a 
little  wild?" 

"  Nonsense,  Isadore  !  your  brothers  are  just  what 
I  would  have  them  !  I  don't  prefer  wild  young 
men,  but  I  hope  I  have  sense  enough  not  to  ex- 
pect everybody's  sons  to  be  as  good  as  mine,  and 


ELSIE'S  CHILD REA.  223 

charity  enough  to  overlook  the  imperfections  of 
those  who  are  not." 

"  Well,  mamma,"  said  Isadore  with  great 
seriousness,  "I  have  talked  this  matter  over  with 
Cousin  Elsie,  and  I  think  she  takes  the  right  view 
of  it ;  that  the  rule  should  be  as  strict  for  men  as 
for  women  ;  that  the  sin  which  makes  a  woman  an 
outcast  from  decent  society,  should  receive  the 
same  condemnation  when  committed  by  a  man  ; 
that  a  woman  should  require  as  absolute  moral 
purity  in  the  man  she  marries,  as  men  do  in  the 
women  they  choose  for  wives  ;  and  so  long  as  we 
are  content  with  anything  less,  so  long  as  we  smile 
on  men  whom  we  know  to  be  immoral,  we  are  in  a 
measure  responsible  for  their  vices." 

"I  endorse  that  sentiment,"  said  Arthur,  com- 
ing in  from  an  adjoining  room;  "it  would  be  a 
great  restraint  upon  men's  vicious  inclinations,  if 
they  knew  that  indulgence  in  vice  would  shut  them 
out  of  ladies'  society." 

"A  truce  to  the  subject.  I'm  tired  of  it,"  said 
Virginia.  "Is  it  decided,  mamma,  that  we  take 
passage  in  the  steamer  with  the  Travillas  ?  " 

"Yes;  and  now  let  us  turn  our  attention  to  the 
much  more  agreeable  topic  of  dress  ;  there  are  a 
good  many  questions  to  settle  in  regard  to  it  ; — what 
we  must  have,  what  can  be  got  here,  and  what 
after  we  reach  Philadelphia." 

"  And  how  one  dollar  can  be  made  to  do  the 
work   of  two,"    added    Virginia;     "for   there  are 


224  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

loads  and  loads  of  things  I  must  have  in  order  to 
make  a  respectable  appearance  at  the  watering- 
places." 

"  And  we  have  just  two  weeks  in  which  to  make 
our  arrangements,"  added  her  mother. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SECOND. 

"  Such  sheets  of  fire,  such  bursts  of  horrid  thunder, 
Such  groans  of  roaring  wind  and  rain,  I  never 
Remember  to  have  heard." 

—Shakespeare. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  a  perfect  June  day, 
our  numerous  party  arrived  at  the  wharf  where 
lay  the  steamer  that  was  to  carry  them  to  Phila- 
delphia. 

The  embarkation  was  made  without  accident. 
Molly  had  had  a  nervous  dread  of  her  share  in  it, 
but  under  her  uncle's  careful  supervision,  was  con- 
veyed safely  on  board. 

The  weather  was  very  warm,  the  sea  perfectly 
calm,  but  as  they  steamed  out  of  the  harbor  a 
pleasant  breeze  sprang  up,  and  the  voyage  began 
most  prosperously. 

There  were  a  hundred  lady  passengers,  and  not 
more  than  a  dozen  gentlemen  ;  but  to  Virginia's 
delight,  one  of  these  last  was  a  gay  dashing  young 
army  officer,  with  whom  she  had  a  slight  acquaint- 
ance. 

He  caught  sight  of  her  directly,  hastened  to 
greet  her,  and  they  were  soon  promenading  the 
deck,  together,  engaged  in  an  evident  flirtation. 

Mr.    Dinsmore,  seated    at   some   little  distance 

22s 


226  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

with  his  daughter  and  her  children  about  him, 
watched  his  niece's  proceedings  with  a  deepening 
frown.  He  was  not  pleased  with  either  her  con- 
duct or  her  companion. 

At  length,  rising  and  approaching  his  sister, 
"Do  you  know  that  young  man,  Louise?"  he 
asked. 

"  Not  intimately,"  she  returned,  bridling.  "  He 
is  Captain  Brice  of  the  army." 

"  Do  you  know  his  character  ?  " 

"  I  have  heard  that  he  belongs  to  a  good  family, 
and  I  can  see  that  he  is  a  gentleman.  I  hope  you 
are  satisfied." 

"No,  I  am  not,  Louise.  He  is  a  wild,  reckless 
fellow,  fond  of  drink,  gambles " 

"And  what  of  it?"  she  interrupted.  "I 
don't  suppose  he's  going  to  teach  Virginia  to  do 
either." 

"He  is  no  fit  associate  for  her  or  for  any  lady. 
Will  you  interpose  your  authority " 

"No,  I  won't;  I'm  not  going  to  insult  a  gentle- 
man, and  I'm  satisfied  that  Virginia  has  sense 
enough  to  take  care  of  herself." 

"Waving  the  question  whether  a  man  of  his 
character  is  a  gentleman,  let  me  remark  that  it  is 
not  necessary  to  insult  him  in  order  to  put  a  stop  to 
this.  You  can  call  your  daughter  to  your  side, 
keep  her  with  you,  take  an  early  opportunity  to 
inform  her  of  the  man's  reputation,  and  bid  her 
discourage  his  attentions.     If  you  do  not  interfere," 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  227 

he  added  in  his  determined  way,  "  I  shall  take  the 
matter  into  my  own  hands." 

"Isadore,"  said  Mrs.  Conly,  "go  and  tell  your 
sister  I  wish  to  speak  to  her." 

Virginia  was  extremely  vexed  at  the  summons, 
but  obeyed  it  promptly. 

"  What  can  mamma  want?  I  was  having  such 
a  splendid  time,"  she  said  pettishly  to  her  sister, 
when  they  were  out  of  the  captain's  hearing. 

"It  is  more  Uncle  Horace  than  mamma." 

Virginia  reddened.  She  knew  her  uncle's 
opinions,  and  she  was  not  entirely  ignorant  of 
the  reputation  borne  by  Captain  Brice. 

She  feigned  ignorance  however,  listened  with 
apparent  surprise  to  her  uncle's  account  of  him  and 
promised  sweetly  to  treat  him  with  the  most  distant 
politeness  in  future. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  saw  through  her,  but  what  more 
could  he  do,  except  keep  a  strict  watch  over  both. 

The  captain,  forsaken  by  Virginia,  sauntered 
about  the  deck  and  presently  approaching  an 
elderly  lady  who  sat  somewhat  apart  from  the 
rest,  lifted  his  cap  with  a  smiling  "  How  do  you 
do,  Mrs.  Noyes?"  and  taking  an  empty  chair  by 
her  side  entered  into  a  desultory  conversation. 

"By  the  by,"  he  said,  "what  an  attractive  fam- 
ily group  is  that  over  yonder,"  with  a  slight  motion 
of  the  head  in  the  direction  of  the  Travillas.  "  The 
mother  is  my  beau-ideal  of  a  lovely  matron,  in  ap- 
pearance at  least — I  have  not  the  happiness  of  her 


228  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

acquaintance — and  the  daughters  are  models  of 
beauty  and  grace.  They  are  from  your  neighbor- 
hood, I  believe  ?  " 

"  Yes;  I  have  a  calling  acquaintance  with  Mrs. 
Travilla.  She  was  a  great  heiress  \  has  peculiar 
notions,  rather  puritanical ;  but  is  extremely  agree- 
able for  all  that." 

"  Could  you  give  me  an  introduction  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I  must  beg  you  to  excuse 
me." 

"But  why?" 

"Ah,  captain,  do  you  not  know  that  you  have 
the  reputation  of  being  a  naughty  man  ?  not  very ; 
but  then,  as  I  have  told  you,  the  mother  is  very 
strict  and  puritanical  in  her  ideas ;  the  father  is  the 
same,  and  I  should  only  offend  them  without  doing 
you  any  good ;  the  girls  would  not  dare,  or  even  so 
much  as  wish  to  look  at  or  speak  to  you." 

Growing  red  and  angry,  the  captain  stammered 
out  something  about  being  no  worse  than  nine- 
tenths  of  the  rest  of  the  world. 

"Very  true,  no  doubt,"  she  said;  "and  please 
understand  that  you  are  not  tabooed  by  me.  I'm 
not  so  strict.  But  perhaps,"  she  added  laughing, 
"  it  may  be  because  I've  no  daughters  to  be  en- 
dangered by  young  fellows  who  are  as  handsome 
and  fascinating  as  they  are  naughty."  He  bowed 
his  acknowledgments,  then,  as  a  noble  looking 
young  man  was  seen  to  approach  the  group  with 
the  manner  of  one  on  a  familiar  footing  inquired, 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  229 

"Who  is  that  fellow  that  seems  so  much  at  home 
with  them  ?  " 

"His  name  is  Leland ;  Lester  Leland.  He's  a 
nephew  of  the  Leland  who  bought  Fairview  from 
the  Fosters  some  years  ago.  He's  an  artist  and 
poor — the  nephew — he  had  to  work  his  own  way  in 
the  world  ;  has  to  yet  for  that  matter.  I  should 
wonder  at  the  notice  the  Travillas  take  of  him,  only 
that  I've  heard  he's  one  of  the  good  sort.  Then 
besides  you  know  he  may  make  a  great  reputation 
some  day." 

"A  pious  fortune-hunter,  I  presume,"  sneered 
Brice,  rising  to  give  his  seat  to  a  lady  ;  then  with  a 
bow  he  turned  and  walked  away. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  was  taking  his  grandsons  over  the 
vessel,  showing  them  the  engine  and  explaining  its 
complicated  machinery. 

Edward,  who  had  quite  a  mechanical  turn, 
seemed  to  understand  it  nearly  as  well  as  his  grand- 
father, and  Harold  and  Herbert,  bright,  intelligent 
boys  of  ten  and  twelve,  looked  and  examined  with 
much  interest,  asking  sensible  questions  and  listen- 
ing attentively  to  the  replies. 

They  were  active,  manly  little  fellows,  not  fool- 
hardy or  inclined  to  mischief;  nor  was  their 
mother  of  the  over-anxious  kind  ;  she  could  trust 
them,  and  when  the  tour  of  inspection  with  their 
grandpa  was  finished,  they  were  allowed  to  roam 
about  by  themselves. 

Captain    Brice  took  advantage  of  this  to  make 


230  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

acquaintance  with  them,  and  win  their  hearts  by 
thrilling  stories  of  buffalo  hunts  and  encounters 
with  wolves,  grizzly  bears  and  Indians,  in  which  he 
invariably  figured  as  conquering  hero. 

He  thought  to  make  them  stepping  stones  to  an 
acquaintance  with  their  sisters,  and  congratulated 
himself  on  his  success  when,  on  being  summoned 
to  return  to  their  mother,  they  asked  eagerly  if  he 
would  not  tell  them  more  to-morrow. 

"Just  try  me,  my  fine  fellows,"  he  answered, 
laughing. 

"Mamma,  what  do  you  want  with  us?"  they 
asked,  running  up  to  her.  "  A  gentleman  was  tell- 
ing us  such  nice  stories." 

"I  think  the  call  to  supper  will  come  very  soon," 
she  said,  "and  I  want  you  to  smooth  your  hair 
and  wash  your  hands.  Dinah  will  take  you  to  your 
state-room  and  see  that  you  have  what  you  need." 

"I'm  afraid  we're  going  to  have  a  gust,"  re- 
marked Isadore  as  the  lads  hurried  away  to  do  their 
mother's  bidding  ;  "  see  how  the  clouds  are  gather- 
ing yonder  in  the  northwest." 

"A  thunder-storm  at  sea;  how  romantic!" 
said  Virginia;  "'twill  be  something  to  talk  about 
all  our  lives." 

"Silly  child  !  "  said  her  mother,  "to  hear  you 
talk,  one  would  think  there  was  no  such  thing  as 
danger." 

"  Pshaw,  mamma  !  we're  hardly  out  of  sight  of 
land — our  own  shores,"  she  retorted. 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  231 

"That  would  but  increase  our  danger  if  the 
storm  were  coming  from  the  opposite  direction," 
said  her  uncle;  "  but  fortunately,  it  is  from  a  quar- 
ter to  drive  us  out  to  sea." 

"Do  you  think  it  will  be  a  gust,  grandpa  ?  " 
asked  Violet,  a  little  anxiously. 

'  •  I  fear  so ;  the  heat  has  become  so  oppressive, 
the  breeze  has  entirely  died  down,  and  the  clouds 
look  threatening ;  but,  my  child,  do  not  fear ;  our 
Father,  God,  rules  upon  the  sea  as  well  as  the  land ; 
the  stormy  wind  fulfilling  his  word." 

The  storm  came  up  rapidly,  bursting  on  them  in 
its  fury  before  they  had  left  the  tea-table;  the 
lightning's  flash  and  the  crash  and  roll  of  the  thun- 
der followed  in  quick  succession ;  the  stentorian 
voices  of  the  officers  of  the  vessel,  shouting  their 
orders  to  the  crew,  the  heavy  hasty  tramp  of  the 
men's  feet,  the  whistling  of  the  wind  through  the 
rigging,  the  creaking  of  the  cordage,  the  booming 
of  the  sea,  mingling  with  the  terrific  thunder 
claps  and  the  down-pouring  of  the  rain,  combined 
in  an  uproar  fit  to  cause  the  stoutest  heart  to 
quake. 

Faces  grew  pale  with  fear ;  the  women  and  chil- 
dren huddled  together  in  frightened  groups;  the 
men  looked  anxiously  at  each  other,  and  between 
the  thunder  peals,  spoke  in  low  tones  of  the  danger 
of  being  driven  out  to  sea,  and  asked  each  other 
of  the  captain's  skill,  on  what  part  of  the  coast 
they  were,   and    whether   the   vessel    were  strong 


232  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

enough  to  outride  the  tempest,  should  it  continue 
long. 

"  Oh,  this  is  dreadful !  I'm  afraid  we  shall  all 
go  to  the  bottom,  if  it  keeps  on  much  longer," 
Mrs.  Conly  was  saying  to  her  niece,  when  there 
came  a  crash  as  if  the  very  sky  were  falling ;  as  if 
it  had  come  down  upon  them ;  a  shock  that  threw 
some  from  their  seats,  while  others  caught  at  the 
furniture  to  save  themselves ;  the  vessel  shivered 
from  stem  to  stern,  seemed  to  stand  still  for  an  in- 
stant, then  rushed  on  again. 

"It  struck!  we're  lost!"  cried  a  number  of 
voices,  while  many  women  and  children  screamed, 
and  some  fainted. 

"  Courage,  my  friends  !  "  cried  Mr.  Dinsmorein 
loud  clear  tones,  that  could  be  distinctly  heard  by 
all,  above  the  storm.  "  All  is  not  lost  that  is  in  dan- 
ger ;  and  the  '  Lord's  hand  is  not  shortened  that  it 
cannot  save ;  neither  his  ear  heavy  that  it  cannot 
hear.'  " 

"Yes,  it  is  time  to  pray,"  said  an  excited,  an- 
swering voice;  "  the  lightning  has  struck  and  shiv- 
ered the  mast ;  and  look  how  it  has  run  along  over 
our  heads  and  down  yon  mirror ;  as  you  may  see 
by  the  melting  of  the  glass.  It  has  doubtless  con- 
tinued on  to  the  hold,  and  set  fire  to  the  cotton 
stored  there,"  the  speaker — a  thin,  nervous  looking 
man,  who  was  pushing  his  way  through  the  throng 
— added  in  a  whisper  close  to  Mr.  Dinsmore's 
ear. 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  233 

"Be  quiet,  will  you!"  said  the  latter  sternly; 
:t  these  helpless  women  and  children  are  sufficiently 
frightened  already." 

"  Yes,  yes  and  I  don't  want  to  scare  'em  un- 
necessarily; but  we'd  better  be  prepared  for  the 
worst." 

Elsie  had  overheard  the  whispers  and  her  cheek 
paled,  a  look  of  keen  distress  coming  into  her  face 
as  she  glanced  from  one  to  another  of  her  loved 
ones,  dearer  far  than  her  own  life. 

But  she  showed  no  other  sign  of  agitation ;  her 
heart  sent  up  one  swift  cry  to  him  to  whom  "all 
power  is  given  in  heaven  and  in  earth,"  and  faith 
and  love  triumphed  over  fear.  His  love  to  her  was 
infinite  nor  was  there  any  limit  to  his  power.  She 
would  trust  him  that  all  would  be  well  whether  in 
life  or  death. 

"  '  Even  the  wind  and  the  sea  obey  him,'  "  she 
whispered  to  Violet,  who  was  asking  with  pale 
trembling  lips,  "Mamma,  mamma,  what  will  be- 
come of 

"  But  mamma  they  say  the  vessel  is  loaded  with 
cotton,  and  that  the  lightning  has  probably  set  it 
on  fire." 

"  Still,  my  darling,  he  is  able  to  take  care  of  us  ; 
'  it  is  nothing  with  him  to  help  whether  with  many 
or  with  them  that  have  no  power;  '  he  is  the  Lord 
our  God." 

Her  father  had  come  to  her  side.  "Daughter, 
my  dear,  dear  daughter  !  "   he  said  with  emotion, 


234  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

taking  her  in  his  arms  as  was  his  wont  in  her  early 
years. 

"  O  grandpa,  take  care  of  mamma,  whatever  be- 
comes of  us  !  "  exclaimed  Elsie  and  Vi  together. 

"No,  no!"  she  said,  "save  my  children  and 
never  mind  me." 

"Mamma,  you  must  be  our  first  care!"  said 
Eddie  hoarsely. 

"  Your  sisters,  my  son,  and  your  brothers. 
Leave  me  to  the  last,"  she  answered  firmly. 

"We  will  hope  to  save  you  all,"  Mr.  Dinsmore 
said,  trying  to  speak  cheerfully;  "but,  my  child, 
if  you  perish,  I  perish  with  you." 

"  Horace,  is  it  true?  is  it  true  that  the  vessel  is 
on  fire?"  gasped  Mrs.  Conly,  clutching  his  arm 
and  staring  him  in  the  face  with  eyes  wild  with 
terror. 

"Try  to  calm  yourself,  Louise,"  he  said  kindly. 
"  We  do  not  know  certainly  yet,  though  there  is 
reason  to  fear  it  may  be  so." 

"Horrible!"  she  cried,  wringing  her  hands. 
"I  can't  die!  I've  never  made  any  preparations 
for  death.  Oh  save  me,  Horace,  if  you  can  !  No, 
no  save  my  girls,  my  poor  dear  girls,  and  never 
mind  me." 

"  Louise,  my  poor  sister,"  he  said,  deeply  moved, 
"we  will  not  despair  yet  of  all  being  saved;  but 
try  to  prepare  for  the  worst,  turn  now  to  him  who 
has  said,  Look  unto  me  and  be  ye  saved  all  ye  ends 
of  the  earth." 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  235 

Virginia  had  thrown  herself  upon  a  sofa,  in 
strong  hysterics,  and  Isadore  stood  over  her  with 
smelling  salts  and  fan. 

Mrs.  Conly  hurried  back  to  them  with  tears  roll- 
ing down  her  cheeks. 

"  Oh  what  is  to  be  done?"  she  sighed,  taking 
the  fan  from  Isa's  hand.  "If  Cal  and  Art  were 
but  here  to  look  after  us  !  Your  uncle  has  his 
hands  full  with  his  daughter  and  her  children." 

"Mamma  let  us  ask  God  for  help;  he  and  he 
only  can  give  it,"  whispered  Isadore. 

"Yes,  yes,  ask  him!  you  know  how  and  he 
will  hear  you.  Virgy,  my  child,  try  to  calm  your- 
self." 

Isa  knelt  by  her  sister's  side  ;  there  were  many 
on  their  knees  crying  for  succor  in  this  hour  of  ter- 
rible danger. 

The  storm  was  abating,  the  rain  had  nearly 
ceased  to  fall,  and  the  wind  to  lash  the  waves  into 
fury ;  the  flashes  of  lightning  were  fewer  and 
fainter  and  the  heavy  claps  of  thunder  had  given 
place  to  distant  mutterings ;  they  would  not  be 
wrecked  by  the  fury  of  the  tempest,  yet  alas,  there 
still  remained  the  more  fearful  danger  of  devouring 
fire. 

It  was  a  night  of  terror ;  no  one  thought  of  re- 
tiring, and  few  but  young  children  closed  an  eye. 

Every  preparation  was  made  for  taking  to  the 
water  at  a  moment's  warning ;  those  who  had  life 
preservers — and  all  our  party  were  supplied  with 


236  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

them — brought  them  out  and  secured  them  to  theii 
persons ;  boats  were  made  ready  to  launch,  and 
those  who  retained  sufficient  presence  of  mind  and 
forethought,  selected,  and  kept  close  at  hand,  such 
valuables  as  it  seemed  possible  they  might  be  able 
to  carry  about  them. 

The  Travillas  kept  together,  Mr.  Dinsmore  with 
them,  and  young  Leland  also. 

He  was  to  them  only  an  ordinary  friend,  but 
one  of  them  he  would  have  died  to  save,  and  al- 
most he  would  have  done  it  for  the  others  for  her 
sake. 

Poor  Molly  had  never  felt  her  helplessness  more 
than  now ;  fastened  to  her  chair  as  with  bands  of 
steel,  there  was  less  hope  of  escape  for  her  than  for 
others. 

Her  thoughts  flew  to  Dick  in  that  first  moment 
of  terror,  to  Dick  who  loved  her  better  than  any 
other  earthly  thing.  Alas,  he  was  far  away ;  but 
there  was  One  near,  her  Elder  Brother,  who  would 
never  leave  nor  forsake  her.  With  that  thought 
she  grew  calm  and  strong  to  wait  and  to  endure. 

But  her  uncle  did  not  forget  her ;  with  his  own 
hands  he  fastened  a  life  preserver  about  her. 

"My  poor  helpless  child,"  he  said  low  and  ten- 
derly, "do  not  fear  that  you  will  be  forgotten 
should  there  be  any  chance  for  rescue." 

"Thank  you,  dear,  kind  uncle,"  she  said  with 
tears  in  her  eyes,  "  but  leave  me  to  the  last,  my 
life  is  worth   so  much  less  than  theirs, ' '  glancing 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  237 

toward  her  cousins;  "there  would  be  only  Dick 
to  mourn  its  loss " 

"No,  no,  Molly,  we  all  love  you!"  he  inter- 
rupted. 

She  smiled  a  little  sadly,  but  went  on,  "  and 
it  would  be  more  difficult  to  save  me  than  two 
others." 

"Still,  do  not  despair,"  he  said,  "I  will  not 
leave  you  to  perish  alone  ;  and  I  have  hope  that 
in  the  good  providence  of  God,  we  shall  all  be 
saved." 

Gradually  the  screaming,  sobbing,  fainting,  gave 
place  to  a  dull  despairing  waiting,  waiting,  with  a 
trembling,  sickening  dread,  for  the  confirmation  of 
their  worst  fears. 

Rosie  had  fallen  asleep  upon  a  sofa  with  her  head 
in  her  eldest  sister's  lap,  Vi  on  an  ottoman  beside 
them,  tightly  clasping  a  hand  of  each. 

Elsie  had  her  babe  in  her  arms;  he  was  sleeping 
sweetly,  and  laying  her  head  back,  she  closed  her 
eyes  while  her  thoughts  flew  to  Ion,  to  the  husband 
and  father  who  would  perhaps  learn  to-morrow  of 
the  loss  of  all  his  treasures. 

Her  heart  bled  for  him,  as  she  seemed  to  see  him 
bowed  down  with  heart-breaking  sorrow. 

Then  arose  the  question  "what  should  the  end 
bring  to  them — herself  and  her  beloved  children  ?" 

For  herself  she  could  say,  "Though  I  walk 
through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  ;  I  will 
fear  no  evil;   for  thou   art  with   me."     Elsie,  Vi 


238  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

and  Eddie  she  had  good  reasons  to  hope  were  true 
Christians;  but  Harold  and  Herbert? — A  pang 
shot  through  her  heart.  Good,  obedient  children 
though  they  were,  she  yet  knew  not  that  they  had 
ever  experienced  that  new  birth  without  which 
none  can  enter  heaven. 

Jesus  said,  "  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  thee, 
Except  a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  see  the 
kingdom  of  God." 

'•'Mamma,  what  is  it?"  Eddie  asked,  seeing 
her  glance  anxiously  from  side  to  side. 

"  Your  brothers  !  I  do  not  see  them.  Where 
are  they  ?  ' ' 

"They  went  into  their  state-room  a  moment  since ; 
— right  here,  you  know.     Shall  I  call  them?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  I  must  speak  to  them." 

They  came  hand  in  hand,  in  answer  to  Eddie's 
summons. 

Herbert's  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  not  of  terror 
or  grief;  there  seemed  a  new  happy  light  in  each 
boyish  face. 

"Mamma,"  whispered  Harold,  putting  his  arm 
round  her  neck,  his  lips  to  her  ear,  "we  went 
away  to  be  alone,  Herbie  and  I ;  we  knew  what 
made  you  look  so  sorry  at  us; — because  you  were 
afraid  we  didn't  love  Jesus ;  but  we  do,  mamma, 
and  we  went  away  to  give  ourselves  to  him ;  and 
we  mean  to  be  his  always,  whether  we  live  or  die." 

Glad  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks  as  she  silently 
embraced  first  one,  then  the  other. 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  239 

And  so  slowly  the  night  wore  away,  a  reign  of 
terror  for  hours,  while  every  moment  they  were 
watching  with  despairing  hearts  for  the  smell  of 
fire  or  the  bursting  out  of  flames  from  the  hold ; 
their  fears  gave  way  to  a  faint  hope  as  time  passed 
on  and  the  catastrophe  was  still  delayed ;  a  hope 
that  grew  gradually  stronger  and  brighter,  till  at 
last  it  was  lost  in  glad  certainty. 

The  electricity,  it  appeared,  had  scattered  over 
the  iron  of  the  machinery,  instead  of  running  on 
down  into  the  hold. 

Some  said,  "What  a  lucky  escape!"  others, 
"  What  a  kind  providence." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-THIRD. 

"Sacred  love  is  basely  bought  and  sold; 
Wives  are  grown  traffic,  marriage  is  a  trade." 
— Randolph. 

They  came  safely  into  port.  A  little  crowd  of 
eager,  expectant  friends  stood  waiting  on  the 
wharf ;  among  them  a  tall,  dark-eyed  young  man, 
with  a  bright,  intellectual  face,  whom  Molly,  seated 
on  the  deck  in  the  midst  of  the  family  group, 
recognized  with  almost  a  cry  of  delight. 

The  instant  a  plank  was  thrown  out,  he  sprang 
on  board,  and  in  another  moment  she  was  in  his 
arms,  sobbing,  "Oh,  Dick,  Dick.  I  thought  I'd 
never  see  you  again  !  " 

"  Why?  "  he  said  with  a  joyous  laugh,  "  we've 
not  been  so  long  or  so  far  apart  that  you  need  have 
been  in  despair  of  that." 

Then  as  he  turned  to  exchange  greetings  with 
the  others,  his  ear  caught  the  words,  "We  had  an 
awful  night,  expecting  every  moment  to  see  flames 
bursting  out  from  the  hold." 

"What,  what  does  it  mean?"  he  asked,  grasp- 
ing his  uncle's  hand,  while  his  cheek  paled,  and  he 
glanced  hastily  from  side  to  side. 

"We  have  had  a  narrow  escape,"  said  Mr, 
Dinsmore. 

240 


ELSIES  CHILDREN.  241 

The  main  facts  were  soon  given,  the  details  as 
they  drove  to  their  hotel,  and  Dick  rejoiced  with 
trembling,  as  he  learned  how,  almost,  he  had  lost 
these  dear  ones. 

A  few  days  were  spent  in  Philadelphia,  then  Mr. 
Dinsmore  and  the  Travillas  sought  their  seaside 
homes,  Dick  going  with  them. 

Their  coming  was  hailed  with  joy  by  Mrs.  Dins- 
more  and  her  daughter  Rose,  who  had  been  oc- 
cupying their  cottage  for  a  week  or  more. 

The  Conlys  would  linger  some  time  longer  in  the 
city,  laying  in  a  stock  of  finery  for  the  summer 
campaign,  then,  joined  by  Mrs.  Delaford,  they  too 
would  seek  the  seashore. 

The  cottages  were  quite  out  of  the  town,  built 
facing  the  ocean,  and  as  near  it  as  consistent  with 
safety  and  comfort. 

The  children  hailed  the  first  whiff  of  the  salt 
sea  breeze  with  eager  delight,  were  down  upon  the 
beach  within  a  few  minutes  of  their  arrival,  and 
until  bedtime  left  it  only  long  enough  to  take  their 
tea,  finishing  their  day  with  a  long  moonlight  drive 
along  the  shore. 

They  were  given  perfect  liberty  to  enjoy  them- 
selves to  the  full ;  the  only  restrictions  being  that 
they  were  not  to  go  into  danger,  or  out  of  sight  of 
the  house,  or  to  the  water's  edge  unless  accom- 
panied by  some  older  member  of  the  family  or  a 
trusty  servant. 

The  next  morning  they  were  all  out  again  for  a 


242  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

ramble  before  breakfast,  and  immediately  after 
prayers  Vi,  Rosie,  Harold  and  Herbert,  with  a  man 
servant  in  attendance,  returned  to  the  beach. 

The  girls  were  collecting  shells  and  seaweed, 
the  two  boys  skipping  stones  on  the  water,  Ben, 
the  servant,  watching  the  sport  with  keen  interest, 
and  occasionally  joining  in  it. 

Absorbed  in  their  amusements,  none  of  them 
noticed  the  approach  of  a  young  man  in  undress 
uniform. 

He  followed  them  for  some  moments  in  a  care- 
less way,  as  if  he  were  but  casually  strolling  in  the 
same  direction,  yet  was  watching  with  close  atten- 
tion every  movement  of  Vi's  graceful  figure. 

She  and  Rosie  were  unconsciously  widening  the 
distance  between  their  brothers  and  themselves,  not 
noticing  that  the  boys  had  become  stationary. 

Perceiving  this,  and  that  they  were  now  out  of 
earshot,  the  stranger  quickened  his  pace,  and  com- 
ing up  behind  the  lads,  hailed  them  with,  "So 
here  you  are,  my  fine  fellows  !  I'm  pleased  to  meet 
you  again  !  " 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  Herbert,  looking  round,  "it's 
the  gentleman  that  tells  such  nice  stories  !  Good- 
morning,  sir.     We're  glad  to  see  you,  too." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  assented  Harold  offering  his 
hand,  which  the  stranger  grasped  and  shook 
heartily.  "We're  having  a  splendid  time  skip- 
ping stones.     Did  you  ever  do  it  ?  " 

"  Many  a  time  when  I  was  a  little  chap  like  you. 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  243 

I  used  to  be  a  famous  hand  at  it.  Let's  see  if  I  can 
equal  you  now." 

He  was  soon  apparently  as  completely  en- 
grossed with  the  sport  as  any  of  them,  yet  through 
it  all  was  furtively  watching  Vi  and  Rosie  as  they 
strolled  slowly  onward,  now  stooping  to  pick  up  a 
shell  or  pausing  a  moment  to  gaze  out  over  the 
wide  expanse  of  waters,  then  sauntering  on  again 
in  careless,  aimless  fashion,  thoroughly  enjoying 
the  entire  freedom  from  ordinary  tasks  and  duties. 

The  boys  knew  nothing  about  their  new  com- 
panion except  what  they  had  seen  of  him  on  board 
the  vessel ;  their  mother  had  not  understood  who 
was  their  story-telling  friend,  and  in  the  excitement 
of  the  storm  and  the  hasty  visit  to  the  city,  he  had 
been  quite  forgotten  by  all  three.  Nor  were  any 
of  the  family  aware  of  his  vicinity;  thus  it  hap- 
pened that  the  lads  had  not  been  warned  against  him. 

Vi,  however,  had  seen  him  with  Virginia  and 
knew  from  what  passed  directly  afterward  between 
her  grandfather  and  aunt  (though  she  did  not  hear 
the  conversation;  that  the  stranger  was  not  one 
whom  Mr.  Dinsmore  approved. 

Not  many  minutes  had  passed  before  she  looked 
back,  and  seeing  that  she  had  left  her  brothers 
some  distance  behind,  hastily  began  to  retrace  her 
footsteps,  Rosie  with  her. 

The  instant  they  turned  to  do  so,  the  captain, 
addressing  Harold,  artfully  inquired,  "  Do  you 
know  that  young  lady?  " 


244  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"I  should  think  so  !  she's  my  own  sister,"  said 
the  boy  proudly.     "  The  little  one  too." 

"Pretty  girls,  both  of  them.  Won't  you  in- 
troduce me?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  returned  the  boy  a  little 
doubtfully,  and  taking  a  more  critical  survey  of 
his  new  acquaintance  than  he  had  thought  neces- 
sary before;  "you — you're  a  gentleman  and  a 
good  man,  aren't  you?  " 

"Don't  I  look  like  it?"  laughed  the  captain. 
"  Would  you  take  me  for  a  rogue?  " 

"I — I  don't  believe  you'd  be  a  burglar  or  a 
thief,  but " 

"Well?" 

"  Please  don't  think  I  mean  to  be  rude,  sir,  but 
you  broke  the  third  commandment  a  minute  ago." 

"The  third?  which  is  that?  for  I  really  don't 
remember." 

"I  thought  you'd  forgotten  it,"  said  Herbert. 

"  It's  the  one  that  says,  '  Thou  shalt  not  take  the 
name  of  the  Lord  thy  God  in  vain,'  "  answered 
Harold,  in  low  reverent  tones. 

"I  own  to  being  completely  puzzled,"  said  the 
captain.      "  I  certainly  haven't  been  swearing." 

"No,  not  exactly;  but  you  said,  'By  George,' 
and  '  By  Heaven,'  and  mamma  says  such  words  are 
contrary  to  the  spirit  of  the  command,  and  that  no 
one  who  is  a  thorough  gentleman  and  Christian 
will  ever  use  them." 

"  That's  a  very  strict  rule,"  he  said,  lifting  his 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  245 

cap  and  bowing  low  to  Violet,  who  was  now  close 
at  hand. 

She  did  not  seem  to  notice  it,  or  to  see  him  at 
all. 

'  •  Boys, ' '  she  said  with  gentle  gravity, ' '  let  us  go 
home  now." 

"What  for,  Vi  ?  I'm  not  tired  of  the  beach 
yet,"  objected  Herbert. 

"I  have  something  to  tell  you;  something  else 
to  propoae.     Won't  you  go  with  me?  " 

"Yes,"  and  with  a  hasty  "good-bye,"  to  the 
captain,  they  joined  their  sisters,  who  were  already 
moving  slowly  toward  home. 

"  What  have  you  to  tell  us,  Vi  ?  "  asked  Harold. 

"  That  I  know  grandpa  does  not  approve  of  that 
man,  and  I  am  quite  sure  mamma  would  not  wish 
you  to  be  with  him.  The  sun  is  getting  hot  and 
there  are  Dick  and  Molly  on  the  veranda ;  let's  go 
and  talk  with  them  for  a  while.  It's  nearly  time 
now  for  our  drive." 

"Miss  Wi'let,"  said  Ben,  coming  up  behind, 
"dat  fellah's  mighty  pow'ful  mad;  swored  a  big 
oath  dat  you's  proud  as  Luficer." 

"Oh,  then  we  won't  have  anything  more  to  do 
with  him  !  "  exclaimed  the  boys,  Herbert  adding, 
"  but  I  do  wish  he  was  good,  for  he  does  tell  such 
famous  stories." 

They  kept  their  word  and  were  so  shy  of  the  cap- 
tain that  he  soon  gave  up  trying  to  cultivate  theii 
acquaintance,  or  to  make  that  of  their  sisters. 


246  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

Mrs.  Noyes  and  he  were  boarding  at  the  same 
hotel,  and  from  her  he  learned  that  Mrs.  Delaford 
and  the  Conlys  were  expected  shortly,  having  en- 
gaged rooms  on  the  same  floor  with  herself. 

The  information  was  agreeable,  as,  though  he  did 
not  care  particularly  for  Virginia,  flirting  with  her 
would,  he  thought,  be  rather  an  enjoyable  way  of 
passing  the  time ;  all  the  more  so  that  it  would  be 
in  opposition  to  Mr.  Dinsmore's  wishes;  for  the 
captain  knew  very  well  why,  and  at  whose  sugges- 
tion, Virginia  had  been  summoned  away  from  his 
society  on  board  the  vessel,  and  had  no  love  for 
the  man  who  so  highly  disapproved  of  him. 

The  girl,  too,  resented  her  uncle's  interference, 
and  on  her  arrival,  with  the  perversity  of  human 
nature,  went  farther  in  her  encouragement  of  the 
young  man's  attentions  than  she,  perhaps,  would 
otherwise  have  done. 

Her  mother  and  aunt  looked  on  with  indifference, 
if  not  absolute  approval. 

Isadore  was  the  only  one  who  offered  a  remon- 
strance, and  she  was  cut  short  with  a  polite  request 
to  "mind  her  own  business." 

"I  think  I  am,  Virgy,"  she  answered  pleasantly, 
"I'm  afraid  you're  getting  yourself  into  trouble; 
and  surely  I  ought  to  try  to  save  you  from  that." 

"I  won't  submit  to  surveillance,"  returned  her 
sister.  "I  wouldn't  live  in  the  same  house  with 
Uncle  Horace  for  anything.  And  if  mamma  and 
Aunt  Delaford  don't  find  fault,  you  needn't." 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  247 

Isadore,  seriously  concerned  for  Virginia's  wel- 
fare, was  questioning  in  her  own  mind  whether  she 
ought  to  mention  the  matter  to  her  uncle,  when  her 
mother  set  that  doubt  at  rest  by  forbidding  her  to 
do  so. 

Isa,  who  was  trying  to  be  a  consistent  Christian, 
would  neither  flirt  nor  dance,  and  the  foolish, 
worldly-minded  mother  was  more  vexed  at  her 
behavior  than  at  Virginia's. 

Isa  slipped  away  to  the  cottage  homes  of  the 
Dinsmores  and  Travillas  whenever  she  could.  She 
enjoyed  the  quiet  pleasures  and  the  refined  and  in- 
tellectual society  of  her  relatives  and  the  privileged 
friends,  both  ladies  and  gentlemen,  whom  they 
gathered  about  them. 

■  Leland,  who  had  taken  up  his  abode  tem- 
porarily in  that  vicinity,  was  a  frequent  visitor 
ami  sometimes  brought  a  brother  artist  with  him. 
Dick's  cronies  came  too,  and  old  friends  of  the 
family  from  far  and  near. 

1.  >ie  sent  an  early  invitation  to  Lucy  Ross  to 
brih;r  her  daughters  and  spend  some  weeks  at  the 
cottage. 

The  reply  was  a  hasty  note  from  Lucy  saying 
that  she  deeply  regretted  her  inability  to  accept, 
but  they  were  extremely  busy  making  preparations 
to  spend  the  season  at  Saratoga,  had  already  en- 
gaged their  rooms  and  could  not  draw  back  ;  beside 
that  Gertrude  and  Kate  had  set  their  hearts  on  go- 
IDg.      "However,"   she  added,  "she  would  send 


> 


248  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

Phil  in  her  place,  he  must  have  a  little  vacation 
and  insisted  he  would  rather  visit  their  old  friends 
the  Travillas,  than  go  anywhere  else  in  the  world  ; 
he  would  put  up  at  a  hotel  (being  a  young  man,  he 
would  of  course  prefer  that)  but  hoped  to  spend  a 
good  deal  of  time  at  the  cottage." 

He  did  so,  and  attached  himself  almost  exclu- 
sively to  the  younger  Elsie,  with  an  air  of  proprie- 
torship which  she  did  not  at  all  relish. 

She  tried  to  let  him  see  it  without  being  rude ; 
but  the  blindness  of  egotism  and  vast  self-apprecia- 
tion was  upon  him  and  he  thought  her  only  charm- 
ingly coy ;  probably  with  the  intent  to  thus  conceal 
her  love  and  admiration. 

He  was  egregiously  mistaken.  She  found  him, 
never  the  most  interesting  of  companions  at  times 
an  intolerable  bore ;  and  was  constantly  contrast- 
ing his  conversation  which  ran  upon  trade  and 
money  making,  stocks,  bonds  and  mortgages,  to 
the  exclusion  of  nearly  everything  else  except  ful- 
some flatteries  of  herself — with  that  of  Lester 
Leland,  who  spoke  with  enthusiasm  of  his  art; 
who  was  a  lover  of  Nature  and  Nature's  God ; 
whose  thoughts  dwelt  among  lofty  themes,  while  at 
the  same  time  he  was  entirely  free  from  vanity,  his 
manner  as  simple  and  unaffected  as  that  of  a  little 
child. 

He  was  a  favorite  with  all  the  family  ;  his  society 
enjoyed  especially  by  the  ladies. 

He  devoted  himself  more  particularly  to  sculp- 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  249 

ture,  but  also  sketched  finely  from  nature,  as  did 
both  Elsie  and  Violet ;  the  latter  was  beginning  to 
show  herself  a  genius  in  both  that  and  music,  Elsie 
had  recently  under  Leland's  instructions,  done 
some  very  pretty  wood  carving  and  modeling  in 
clay,  and  this  similarity  of  tastes  made  them  very 
congenial. 

Philip's  stay  was  happily  not  lengthened,  business 
calling  him  back  to  New  York. 

Letters  came  now  and  then  from  Mrs.  Ross, 
Gertrude  or  Kate,  telling  of  their  gay  life  at 
Saratoga. 

The  girls  seemed  to  have  no  lack  of  gentlemen 
admirers;  among  whom  was  a  Mr.  Larrabee  from 
St.  Louis,  who  was  particularly  attentive  to  Ger- 
trude. 

At  length  it  was  announced  that  they  were 
engaged. 

It  was  now  the  last  of  August.  The  wedding  was 
to  take  place  about  the  middle  of  October,  and  as 
the  intervening  six  weeks  would  barely  afford  time 
for  the  preparation  of  the  trousseau,  the  ladies  hur- 
ried home  to  New  York. 

Then  Kate  came  down  to  spend  a  week  with  the 
Travillas. 

She  looked  fagged  and  worn,  complained  of 
ennui,  was  already  wearied  of  the  life  she  had 
been  leading,  and  had  lost  all  taste  for  simple 
pleasures. 

Her  faded  cheek  and   languid   air,  presented  a 


250  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

strange  contrast  to  the  fresh,  bright  beauty  and 
animation  of  Elsie  and  Violet,  a  contrast  that 
pained  the  kind,  motherly  heart  of  Mrs.  Travilla, 
who  would  have  been  glad  to  make  all  the  world 
as  happy  as  she  and  her  children  were. 

Elsie  and  Vi  felt  a  lively  interest  in  Gertrude's 
prospects,  and  had  many  questions  to  ask  about 
her  betrothed; — "Was  he  young?  was  he  hand- 
some ?  was  he  a  good  man  ?  But,  oh  that  was  of 
course. ' ' 

"No,  not  of  course  at  all,"  Kate  answered, 
almost  with  impatience.  "She  supposed  he  was 
not  a  bad  man  ;  but  he  wasn't  good  in  their  sense 
of  the  word — not  in  the  least  religious — and  he  was 
neither  young  nor  handsome." 

A  moment  of  disappointed  silence  followed  this 
communication,  then  Elsie  said,  a  little  doubtfully, 
"  Well,  I  suppose  Gerty  loves  him,  and  is  happy  in 
the  prospect  of  becoming  his  wife  ? ' ' 

"  Happy  ?"  returned  Kate,  with  a  contemptu- 
ous sniff.  "Well,  I  suppose  she  ought  to  be;  she 
is  getting  what  she  wanted — plenty  of  money  and 
a  splendid  establishment;  but  as  to  loving  Mr. 
Victor  Larrabee — I  could  about  as  soon  love  a — 
snake ;  and  so  could  she.  He  always  makes  me 
think  of  one." 

"Oh,  Kate!  and  will  she  marry  him?"  both 
exclaimed  in  horror. 

"She's  promised  to  and  doesn't  seem  inclined  to 
draw  back,"  replied  Kate  with  indifference.     Then 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  251 

bursting  into  a  laugh,  "Girls,"  she  said,  "  I've  had 
an  offer  too,  and  mamma  would  have  had  me  ac-  - 
cept  it,  but  it  didn't  suit  my  ideas.  The  man  him- 
self is  well  enough,  I  don't  really  dislike  him;  but 
such  a  name  !  Hogg  !  only  think  of  it !  I  told 
mamma  that  I  didn't  want  to  live  in  a  sty,  if  it  was 
lined  with  gold." 

"  No,  I  don't  believe  I  could  feel  willing  to  wear 
that  name,"  said  Violet  laughing.  "But  if  his 
name  suited,  would  you  marry  him  without  loving 
him?" 

"  I  suppose  so ;  I  like  riches,  and  mamma  says 
such  wealthy  men  as  Mr.  Hogg  and  Mr.  Larrabee 
are  not  to  be  picked  up  every  day." 

"  But,  oh,  it  wouldn't  be  right,  Kate  !  because- 
you  have  to  promise  to  love." 

"  Oh,  that's  a  mere  form  !  "  returned  Kate  with 
a  yawn.  "  Gerty  says  she's  marrying  for  love — not 
of  the  man  but  his  money,"  and  Kate  laughed  as 
if  it  was  an  excellent  joke. 

The  other  two  looked  grave  and  distressed,  their 
mother  had  taught  them  that  to  give  the  hand  with- 
out the  heart  was  folly  and  sin. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FOURTH. 

"  There's  many  a  slip 
'Twixt  the  cup  and  the  lip." 

The  Travillas  were  all  invited  to  Gertrude's 
wedding ;  but  as  it  was  to  be  a  very  grand  affair, 
the  invitation  was  declined  because  of  their  recent 
bereavement. 

Mr.  Ross  had  not  seen  his  intended  son-in-law, 
nor  did  he  know  how  mercenary  were  Gertrude's 
motives.  He  took  it  for  granted  that  she  would 
not,  of  her  own  free  will,  consent  to  marry  a  man 
who  was  not  at  least  agreeable  to  her,  though  he 
certainly  thought  it  odd  that  she  should  fancy  one 
over  forty  years  older  than  herself. 

He  made  some  inquiries  relative  to  the  man's 
character  and  circumstances,  and  learning  that  he 
was  really  very  wealthy,  and  bore  a  respectable 
reputation,  as  the  world  goes,  gave  his  consent  to 
the  match. 

The  preparations  went  on ;  dresses  and  jewels 
were  ordered  from  Paris,  invitations  issued  to 
several  hundred  guests,  and  the  reception  rooms 
of  their  city  residence  refurnished  for  the  occa- 
sion ;  money  was  poured  out  without  stint  to  pro- 
vide the  wedding  feasts  and  flowers,  rich  and  rare, 
252 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  253 

for  the  adornment  of  the  house,  and  the  persons  of 
the  girls. 

Gertrude  did  not  seem  unhappy,  but  was  in  a 
constant  state  of  excitement,  and  would  not  allow 
herself  a  moment  to  think. 

Ten  days  before  that  appointed  for  the  ceremony, 
the  bridegroom  arrived  in  the  city,  and  called  upon 
the  family. 

Mr.  Ross  did  not  like  his  countenance,  and 
wondered  more  than  ever  at  his  daughter's  choice. 

He  waited  till  Mr.  Larrabee  was  gone,  then  sent 
for  her  to  come  to  him  in  the  library. 

She  came,  looking  surprised  and  annoyed. 
"  What  is  it,  papa?  "  she  said  impatiently.  "  Please 
be  as  brief  as  you  can ;  because  I've  a  world  of 
things  to  attend  to." 

"  Su  many  that  you  have  not  a  moment  to  spare 
for  the  father  you  are  going  to  leave  so  soon?  "  he 
said  a  little  sadly. 

"Oh,  don't  remind  me  of  that  !  "  she  cried,  a 
sudden  change  coming  over  her  manner.  "  I  can't 
bear  to  think  of  it  !  "  and  creeping  up  to  him,  she 
put  her  arms  around  his  neck,  while  a  tear  trembled 
in  her  eye. 

"  Nor  I,"  he  said,  caressing  her  ;  "  not  even  if  I 
knew  you  were  going  to  be  very  happy  so  far  away 
from  me ;  and  I  fear  you  are  not.  Gertrude,  do- 
you  love  that  man  ?  " 

"  Why  what  a  question  coming  from  my  practical 
father  !  "  she  said,  forcing  a  laugh.      "  I  am  choos- 


254-  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

ing  for  myself,  marrying  of  my  own  free  will ;  is 
not  that  sufficient?  " 

"I  tell  you  candidly,  Gertrude,"  he  answered, 
"I  do  not  like  Mr.  Larrabee's  looks.  I  cannot 
think  it  possible  that  you  can  love  him,  and  I  beg 
of  you  if  you  do  not,  to  draw  back  even  now  at 
this  late  hour." 

"It  is  too  late,  papa,"  she  returned,  growing 
cold  and  hard  ;  "  and  I  do  not  wish  it.  Is  this  all 
you  wanted  to  say  to  me?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  releasing  her  with  a  sigh. 

She  glided  from  the  room  and  he  spent  the  next 
half  hour  in  pacing  slowly  back  and  forth  with  his 
head  bowed  upon  his  breast. 

The  door  bell  rang  and  the  servant  came  in  with 
a  card. 

Mr.  Ross  glanced  at  it,  read  the  name  with  a 
look  of  pleased  surprise,  and  said,  "  Show  the 
gentleman  in  here." 

The  next  moment  the  two  were  shaking  hands 
and  greeting  each  other  as  old  and  valued  friends. 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you,  Gordon  !  "  exclaimed 
Mr.  Ross ;  "but  what  happy  chance  brought  you 
here  ?  Are  you  not  residing  somewhere  in  the 
West?" 

"Yes;  in  St.  Louis;  and  it  is  not  a  happy 
chance,  but  a  painful  duty  that  has  brought  me  to 
you  to-night." 

He  spoke  hurriedly,  as  if  to  be  done  with  an  un- 
pleasant task,  and  Mr.  Ross's  pulses  throbbed  at 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  255 

the  sudden  recollection  that  Larrabee  also  was  a 
resident  of  St.  Louis. 

He  turned  a  quick,  inquiring  look  upon  his 
friend.  "  Out  with  it,  man  !  I'm  in  no  mood  to 
wait,  whether  it  be  good  news  or  ill." 

Gordon  glanced  toward  the  door. 

Mr.  Ross  stepped  to  it  and  turned  the  key; 
then  coming  back,  seated  himself  close  to  his 
friend  with  the  air  of  one  who  is  ready  for  any- 
thing. 

"  Phil,  my  old  chum,"  said  Gordon,  clapping 
him  affectionately  on  the  shoulder,  "  I  heard  the 
other  day  in  St.  Louis,  that  Larrabee  was  about  to 
marry  a  daughter  of  yours,  and  I  took  the  first 
eastern  bound  train  and  traveled  night  and  day  to 
get  here  in  time  to  put  a  stop  to  the  thing.  I  hope 
I'm  not  too  late." 

"  What  do  you  know  of  the  man?  "  asked  Mr. 
Ross  steadily  and  looking  Gordon  full  in  the  eye, 
but  with  a  paling  cheek. 

"Know  of  him  ?  that  he  made  all  his  money  by 
gambling;  that  he  is  a  murderer." 

The  last  word  was  spoken  low  and  close  to  the 
listener's  ear. 

Mr.   Ross  started  back — horrified — deadly  pale. 

"  Gordon  !  do  you  know  whereof  you  affirm?  " 
he  asked  low  and  huskily. 

"  I  do ;  I  had  the  account  from  one  who  was  an 
eye-witness  of  the  affair.  He  is  dead  now,  and  I 
do  not   suppose   it   would    be  possible  to  prove  the 


256  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

thing  in  a  court  of  justice ;  but  nevertheless  I  assure 
you  it  is  true. 

"  It  was  thirty  years  ago,  on  a  Mississippi 
steamer,  running  between  St.  Louis  and  New 
Orleans,  that  the  deed  was  done. 

"  Larrabee,  then  a  professional  black-leg,  was 
aboard,  plying  his  trade.  My  informant,  a  man 
whose  veracity  I  could  not  doubt,  was  one  of  a 
group  of  bystanders,  who  saw  him  (Larrabee) 
fleece  a  young  man  out  of  several  thousand  dol- 
lars— all  he  had  in  the  world — then,  enraged  by 
some  taunting  words  from  his  victim,  pull  out  a 
pistol  and  shoot  him  through  the  heart,  just  as  they 
sat  there  on  opposite  sides  of  the  gaming  table ; 
then  with  his  revolver  still  in  his  hand,  threatening 
with  terrible  oaths  and  curses,  to  shoot  down  any 
man  who  should  attempt  to  stop  him,  he  rushed  on 
deck,  jumped  into  the  river,  swam  ashore  and  dis- 
appeared in  the  woods." 

"Horrible,  horrible!  "  groaned  Mr.  Ross,  hid- 
ing his  face  in  his  hands.  "  And  this  murderer, 
this  fiend  in  human  form,  would  have  married  my 
daughter  !  "  he  cried,  starting  up  in  strong  excite- 
ment. "  Why  was  he  suffered  to  escape?  Where 
is  he  now?" 

"The  whole  thing  passed  so  quickly,  my  in- 
formant said,  that  every  one  seemed  stunned, 
paralyzed  with  horror  and  fright  till  the  scoundrel 
had  made  good  his  escape ;  beside  there  were 
several  others  of  the  same  stamp  on  board — des- 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  257 

perate  fellows,  probably  belonging  to  the  same 
gang — who  were  evidently  ready  to  make  common 
cause  with  the  ruffian. 

"  That  part  of  our  country  was,  you  know,  in 
those  days,  infested  with  desperadoes  and  out- 
laws. ' ' 

"Yes,  yes ;  but  what  is  to  be  done  now  ?  I 
shall  of  course  send  a  note  to  Larrabee,  at  his 
hotel,  telling  him  that  all  is  at  an  end  between 
him  and  Gertrude,  forbidding  him  the  house,  and 
intimating  that  the  sooner  he  leaves  the  vicinity 
the  better.  But — Gordon,  I  can  never  thank  you 
sufficiently  for  this  kindness;  will  you  add  to  it  by 
keeping  the  thing  to  yourself  for  the  present  ?  I 
wouldn't  for  the  world  have  the  story  get  into  the 
papers." 

"Certainly,  Ross!  "  returned  his  friend,  grasp- 
ing his  hand  in  adieu.  "  I  understand  how  you 
feel.  There  is  but  one  person  beside  ourselves, 
who  knows  my  errand  here,  and  I  can  answer  for 
his  silence." 

"Who  is  it?" 

"  Mr.  Hogg,  a  friend  of  your  wife  and  daugh- 
ters." 

The  news  brought  by  Mr.  Gordon  sent  both 
Gertrude  and  her  mother  into  violent  hysterics,  and 
Mr.  Ross  and  an  old  nurse  who  had  been  in  the 
family  for  years,  had  their  hands  full  for  the  rest 
of  the  night.  It  was  a  sore  wound  to  the  pride  of 
both  mother  and  daughter. 


258  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"The  scoundrel!  the  wretch!  the  villain!" 
cried  Gertrude.  "I  can  never  hold  up  my  head 
again ;  everybody  will  be  talking  about  me,  and 
those  envious  Miss  Petitts  and  their  mother  will 
say,  'It's  just  good  enough  for  her;  serves  her 
right  for  being  so  proud  of  the  grand  match  she 
was  going  to  make. '  Oh  dear,  oh  dear !  why 
couldn't  that  Gordon  have  staid  away  and  held  his 
tongue  !  " 

"Gertrude!"  exclaimed  her  father,  in  anger 
and  astonishment,  "  is  this  your  gratitude  to  him 
for  saving  you  from  being  the  wife  of  a  gambler 
and  murderer?  You  might  well  be  thankful  to 
him  and  to  a  Higher  Power,  for  your  happy  es- 
cape." 

"Yes,  of  course,"  said  Lucy.  "But  what  are 
we  to  do  ?  the  invitations  are  all  out.  Oh  dear, 
dear,  was  there  ever  such  a  wretched  piece  of 
business  !  Phil,  it's  real  good  in  you  not  to  re- 
proach me." 

"'Twould  be  useless  now,"  he  sighed,  "and  I 
think  the  reproaches  of  your  own  conscience  must 
be  sufficient.  Not  that  I  would  put  all  the  blame 
on  you,  though.     A  full  share  of  it  belongs  to  me." 

By  morning  both  ladies  had  recovered  some  de- 
gree of  calmness,  but  Gertrude  obstinately  refused 
to  leave  her  room,  or  to  see  any  one  who  might 
call,  even  her  most  intimate  friend. 

"Tell  them  I'm  sick,"  she  said,  "it'll  be  true 
enough,  for  I  have  an  awful  headache." 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  259 

It  was  to  her  mother  who  had  been  urging  her 
to  come  down  to  breakfast,  that  she  was  speaking. 

"  Well,  I  shall  send  up  a  cup  of  tea,"  said  Mrs. 
Ross.  "But,  what  is  this?"  as  the  maid  entered 
with  a  note.     "It's  directed  to  you,  Gertrude." 

"From  him,  I  presume,"  Gertrude  said,  as  the 
girl  went  out  and  closed  the  door.  "  Throw  it 
into  the  fire,  mother,  or  no;  I'll  send  it  back  un- 
opened." 

"It  is  not  his  hand,"  said  Mrs.  Ross,  closely 
scrutinizing  the  address. 

"Then  give  it  to  me,  please;"  and  almost 
snatching  it  from  her  mother's  hand,  Gertrude 
tore  it  open,  and  glanced  hastily  over  its  contents. 

"  Yes,  I'll  see  him  !  he'll  be  here  directly;  and 
I  must  look  my  best !  "  she  exclaimed,  jumping  up 
and  beginning  to  take  down  her  crimps. 

"See  him?  Gertrude,  are  you  mad?  Your 
father  will  never  allow  it." 

"Mr.  Hogg,  mother." 

"Oh!" 

They  exchanged  glances  and  smiles.  Mrs.  Ross 
hurried  down  to  breakfast,  not  to  keep  her  husband 
waiting,  and  Gertrude  presently  followed  in  hand- 
some morning  toilet,  and  in  apparently  quite  gay 
spirits;  a  trifle  pale,  but  only  enough  so  to  make 
her  interesting,  her  mother  said. 

Mr.  Ross  and  Philip,  Jr.,  had  already  gone  away 
to  their  place  of  business,  Sophie  and  the  younger 
boys  to  school,  and  only  Mrs.  Ross  and  Kate  were 


260  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

left,  the  latter  of  whom  had  little  to  say,  but  re- 
garded her  sister  with  a  sort  of  contemptuous  pity. 

Gertrude  had  scarcely  finished  her  meal,  when 
the  door-bell  rang,  and  she  was  summoned  to  the 
drawing-room  to  receive  her  visitor. 

The  wedding  came  off  at  the  appointed  time. 
There  was  a  change  of  bridegrooms,  that  was  all ; 
and  few  could  decide  whether  the  invitations  had 
been  a  ruse,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned — or  if  that 
were  not  so,  how  the  change  had  been  brought 
about. 

In  a  long  letter  to  Violet  Travilla,  Kate  Ross 
gave  the  details  of  the  whole  affair. 

A  strange,  sad  story  it  seemed  to  Vi  and  her  sis- 
ter. They  could  not  in  the  least  understand  how 
Gertrude  could  feel  or  act  as  she  had  done,  and 
feared  she  would  find,  as  Kate  expressed  it,  "even 
a  gold  lined  sty,  but  a  hard  bed  to  lie  in,  with  no 
love  to  soften  it." 

"  Still,"  they  said  to  each  other,  "  it  was  better, 
a  thousand  times  better,  than  marrying  that  dread- 
ful Mr.  Larrabee." 

For  Kate  had  assured  them  Mr.  Hogg  was  "an 
honest,  honorable  man,  and  not  ill-tempered  ;  only 
an  intolerable  bore — so  stupid  and  uninteresting." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIFTH. 

"  Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap." 

— Gal.  vi.  7. 

Elsie  and  her  children  returned  home  healthful 
and  happy,  with  scarce  any  but  pleasing  recollec- 
tions of  the  months  that  had  just  passed. 

Not  so  with  Mrs.  Conly  and  Virginia.  They 
seemed  soured  and  disappointed  ;  nothing  had  gone 
right  with  them ;  their  finery  was  all  spoiled,  and 
they  were  worn  out — with  the  journey  they  said, 
but  in  reality  far  more  by  late  hours  and  dissipation 
of  one  sort  and  another. 

The  flirtation  with  Captain  Brice  had  not  ended 
in  anything  serious— except  the  establishing  of  a 
character  for  coquetry  for  Virginia — nor  had  sev- 
eral others  which  followed  in  quick  succession. 

The  girl  had  much  ado  to  conceal  her  chagrin ; 
she  had  started  out  with  bright  hopes  of  securing 
a  brilliant  match,  and  now,  though  not  yet  twenty, 
began  to  be  haunted  with  the  terrible,  boding  fear 
of  old  maidenhood. 

She  confided  her  trouble  to  Isadore  one  day, 
when  a  fit  of  extreme  depression  had  made  her 
unusually  communicative. 

Isa  could  scarce  forbear  smiling,  but  checked  the 
inclination. 

261 


262  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"It  is  much  too  soon  to  despair,  Virgy,"  sh* 
said  ;  "  but  indeed,  I  do  not  think  the  prospect  of 
living  single  need  make  one  wretched." 

"  Perhaps  not  you,  who  are  an  heiress;  but  it's 
another  thing  for  poor,  penniless  me." 

Isadore  acknowledged  that  that  probably  did 
make  a  difference. 

"But,"  she  added,  "I  hope  neither  of  us  will 
ever  be  so  silly  as  to  marry  for  money.  I  think  it 
must  be  dreadful  to  live  in  such  close  connection 
with  a  man  you  do  not  love,  even  if  he  is  rolling 
in  wealth ;  but  suppose  he  loses  his  money  directly  ? 
There  you  are,  tied  to  him  for  life  without  even 
riches  to  compensate  you  for  your  loss  of  liberty." 

"  Dear  me,  Isa,  how  tiresome  !  Where's  the  use 
of  supposing  he's  going  to  lose  his  money?  " 

"Because  it's  something  not  at  all  unlikely  to 
happen ;  riches  do  take  wings  and  fly  away.  I 
do  not  feel  certain  that  Aunt  Delaford's  money  will 
ever  come  to  me,  or  that,  if  it  does,  I  may  not  lose 
it.  So  I  intend  to  prepare  to  support  myself  if  it 
should  ever  become  necessary." 

"How?" 

"  I  intend  to  take  up  the  English  branches  again, 
also  the  higher  mathematics,  and  make  myself 
thorough  in  them  (which  I  am  far  from  being  now ; 
they  do  not  teach  them  thoroughly  at  the  convent), 
so  that  I  may  be  able  to  command  a  good  position 
as  a  teacher. 

"And  let  me  advise  you  to  do  the  same." 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  263 

"Indeed,  I've  no  fancy  for  such  hard  work," 
sneered  Virginia.  "I'd  rather  trust  to  luck.  I'll 
be  pretty  sure  to  be  taken  care  of  somehow." 

"  I  should  think  if  any  one  might  feel  justified 
in  doing  that  it  would  be  Cousin  Elsie,"  said  Isa- 
dora ;  "  but  Uncle  Horace  educated  her  in  a  way 
to  make  her  quite  capable  of  earning  her  own  liv- 
ing, and  she  is  doing  the  same  by  every  one  of  her 
children." 

"Such  nonsense  !  "  muttered  Virginia. 

"Such  prudence  and  forethought,  I  should  say," 
laughed  her  sister. 

A  few  days  after  this  Isadore  was  calling  at  Ion 
and  in  the  course  of  conversation  Mrs.  Travilla  re- 
marked, with  concern,  "Virginia  looks  really  un- 
happy of  late.  Is  her  trouble  anything  it  would  be 
in  my  power  to  relieve?  " 

"No;  unless  she  would  listen  to  good  counsel 
from  you.  It  is  really  nothing  serious ;  and  yet  I 
suppose  it  seems  so  to  her.  I'm  almost  ashamed 
to  tell  you,  cousin,  but  as  far  as  I  can  learn  it  is 
nothing  in  the  world  but  the  fear  of  old-maiden- 
hood," Isa  answered,  half  laughing. 

Elsie  smiled. 

"Tell  her  from  me  that  there  is  plenty  of  time 
yet.  She  is  two  or  three  years  younger  than  I  was 
when  I  married,  and,"  she  added  with  a  bright, 
happy  look,  "  I  have  never  thought  I  lost  anything 
by  waiting." 

"I'm  sure   you   didn't,    mamma,"  said  Violet, 


264  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

who  was  present.  "  But  how  very  odd  of  Virgy 
to  trouble  about  that !  I'm  glad  people  don't  have 
to  marry,  because  I  shall  never,  never  be  willing  to 
leave  my  dear  home,  and  my  father  and  mother. 
Especially  not  to  live  with  some  stranger." 

"  I  hope  it  may  be  some  years  before  you  change 
your  mind  in  regard  to  that, ' '  her  mother  responded 
with  a  loving  look. 

Elsie  was  not  bringing  up  her  daughters  to  con- 
sider marriage  the  chief  end  of  woman ;  she  had, 
indeed,  said  scarcely  anything  on  the  subject  till 
her  eldest  was  of  an  age  to  begin  to  mix  a  little  in 
general  society ;  then  she  talked  quietly  and  seri- 
ously to  them  of  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of 
the  married  state  and  the  vast  importance  of  mak- 
ing a  wise  choice  in  selecting  a  partner  for  life. 

In  their  childhood  she  had  never  allowed  them 
to  be  teased  about  beaux.  She  could  not  prevent 
their  hearing,  occasionally,  something  of  the  kind, 
but  she  did  her  best  to  counteract  the  evil  influ- 
ence, and  had  succeeded  so  well  in  that,  and  in 
making  home  a  delight,  that  her  children  one  and 
all,  shunned  the  thought  of  leaving  it,  and  her  girls 
were  as  easy  and  free  from  self-consciousness  in  the 
society  of  gentlemen  as  in  that  of  ladies;  never 
bold  or  forward ;  there  was  nothing  in  their  man- 
ner that  could  give  the  slightest  encouragement  to 
undue  familiarity. 

And  then  both  she  and  their  father  had  so  en- 
twined themselves  about  the   hearts  of  their  off- 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  265 

spring,  that  all  shared  the  feeling  expressed  by 
Violet,  and  truly  believed  that  nothing  less  than 
death  could  ever  separate  them  from  these  beloved 
parents. 

There  was  a  good  deal  to  bring  the  subject  of 
marriage  prominently  before  their  minds  just  at 
present,  for  the  event  of  the  winter  was  the  bring- 
ing home  of  a  wife  by  their  Uncle  Horace,  and 
''Aunt  Rosie  "  was  to  be  married  in  the  ensuing 
spring. 

The  approaching  Centennial  was  another  topic 
of  absorbing  interest. 

That  they  might  reap  the  full  benefit  of  the  great 
Exhibition,  they  went  North  earlier  than  usual,  the 
middle  of  May  finding  them  in  quiet  occupancy  of 
a  large,  handsome,  elegantly  furnished  mansion  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  Park. 

Here  they  kept  open  house,  entertaining  a  large 
circle  of  relatives  and  friends  drawn  thither,  by  a 
desire  to  see  this  great  world's  fair. 

The  Dalys  were  with  them,  husband  and  wife 
each  in  the  same  capacity  as  at  Ion,  which  left  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Travilla  free  to  come  and  go  as  they 
wished,  either  with  or  without  their  children. 

They  kept  their  own  carriages  and  horses  and 
when  at  home  drove  almost  daily  to  the  Exhibition. 

Going  there  with  parents  and  tutor,  and  being 
able  to  devote  so  much  time  to  it,  the  young  peo- 
ple gathered  a  great  store  of  general  information. 

Poor  Molly's  inability  to  walk,  shut  her  out  from 


266  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

several  of  the  buildings,  but  she  gave  the  more 
time  and  careful  study  to  those  whose  contents 
were  brought  within  her  reach  by  the  rolling  chairs. 

Her  cousins  gave  her  glowing  descriptions  of  the 
treasures  of  the  Art  building,  Horticultural  Hall, 
Women's  Department,  etc.,  and  sincerely  sympa- 
thized with  her  in  her  deprivation  of  the  pleasure 
of  examining  them  for  herself. 

But  Molly  was  learning  submission  and  content- 
ment with  her  lot,  and  would  smilingly  reply  that 
she  considered  herself  highly  favored  in  being  able 
to  see  so  much,  since  there  were  millions  of  people 
even  in  our  own  land,  who  could  not  visit  the  Ex- 
hibition at  all. 

One  morning,  early  in  the  season,  when  as  yet 
the  crowd  was  not  very  great,  the  whole  family  had 
gone  in  a  body  to  Machinery  Hall  to  see  the  Corliss 
engine. 

They  were  standing  near  it,  silently  gazing, 
when  a  voice  was  heard  in  the  rear. 

"  Ah,  ha  !  ah,  ha  !  um  h'm ;  ah,  ha  !  what 
think  ye  o'  that  now,  my  lads  ?  is  it  worth  look- 
ing at  ?  " 

"That  it  is,  sir  !  "  responded  a  younger  voice 
in  manly  tones,  full  of  admiration,  while  at  the 
same  instant,  Elsie  turned  quickly  round  with  the 
exclamation,  "  Cousin  Ronald  !  " 

"Cousin  Elsie,"  he  responded,  as  hand  grasped 
hand  in  cordial  greeting. 

"I'm  so  glad   to  see  you!  "  she  said.      "But 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  267 

why  did  you  not  let  us  know  you  were  coming  ? 
Did  you  not  receive  my  invitation  ?  " 

"No,  I  did  not,  cousin,  and  thought  to  give  you 
a  surprise.  Ah,  Travilla,  the  sight  of  your  pleas- 
ant face  does  one  good  like  a  medicine. 

"  And  these  bonny  lads  and  lasses;  can  they  be 
the  little  bairns  of  eight  years  ago  ?  How  they 
have  grown  and  increased  in  number  too?"  he 
said,  glancing  around  the  little  circle. 

He  shook  hands  with  each,  then  introduced  his 
sons,  two  tall,  well  built,  comely  young  men,  aged 
respectively  twenty  and  twenty-two,  whom  he  had 
brought  with  him  over  the  sea. 

Malcom  was  the  name  of  the  eldest,  the  other  he 
called  Hugh. 

They  had  arrived  in  Philadelphia  only  the  day 
before,  and  were  putting  up  at  the  Continental. 

"That  will  not  do  at  all,  Cousin  Ronald,"  Elsie 
said  when  told  this.  "  You  must  all  come  imme- 
diately to  us,  and  make  our  house  your  home  as 
long  as  you  stay." 

Mr.  Travilla  seconded  her  invitation,  and  after 
some  urging,  it  was  accepted. 

It  proved  an  agreeable  arrangement  for  all  con- 
cerned. "Cousin  Ronald"  was  the  same  genial 
companion  that  he  had  been  eight  years  before,  and 
the  two  lads  were  worthy  of  their  sire,  intelligent 
and  well-informed,  frank,  simple  hearted  and  true. 

The  young  people  made  acquaintance  very 
rapidly.     The   Exposition   was  a  theme   of   great 


268  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

and  common  interest,  discussed  at  every  meal,  and 
on  the  days  when  they  stayed  at  home  to  rest ;  for 
all  found  it  necessary  to  do  so  occasionally,  while 
some  of  the  ladies  and  little  ones  could  scarcely 
endure  the  fatigue  of  attending  two  days  in  succes- 
sion. 

Then  through  the  months  of  July  and  August, 
they  made  excursions  to  various  points  of  interest, 
spending  usually  several  da_  5  at  each ;  sometimes 
a  week  or  two. 

In  this  way  they  visited  Niagara  Falls,  Lakes 
Ontario,  George  and  Champlain,  the  White  Moun- 
tains, and  different  seaside  resorts. 

At  one  of  these  last,  they  met  Lester  Leland 
again.  The  Travillas  had  not  seen  him  for  nearly 
a  year,  but  had  heard  of  his  welfare  through  the 
Lelands  of  Fairview. 

All  seemed  pleased  to  renew  the  old  familiar  in- 
tercourse ;  an  easy  matter,  as  they  were  staying  at 
the  same  hotel. 

Lester  was  introduced  to  the  Scotch  cousins,  as 
an  old  friend  of  the  family. 

Mr.  Lilburn  and  he  exchanged  a  hearty  greeting 
and  chatted  together  very  amicably,  but  Malcom 
and  Hugh  were  only  distantly  polite  to  the  new- 
comer and  eyed  him  askance,  jealous  of  the  favor 
shown  him  by  their  young  lady  cousins,  whose 
sweet  society  they  would  have  been  glad  to  mon- 
opolize. 

But  this  they  soon  found  was  impossible  even 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  269 

could  they  have  banished  Leland;  for  Herbert 
Carrington,  Philip  Ross,  Dick  Percival  and  his 
friends,  and  several  others  soon  appeared  upon  the 
scene. 

Elsie  was  now  an  acknowledged  young  lady; 
Violet  in  her  own  estimation  and  that  of  her  par- 
ents', still  a  mere  child;  but  her  height,  her  grace- 
ful carriage  and  unaffected  ease  of  manner — which 
last  was  the  combined  result  of  native  refinement 
and  constant  association  with  the  highly  polished 
and  educated,  united  to  childlike  simplicity  of 
character  and  utter  absence  of  self-consciousness — 
often  led  strangers  into  the  mistake  of  supposing 
her  several  years  older  than  she  really  was. 

Her  beauty,  too,  and  her  genius  for  music  and 
painting  added  to  her  attractiveness,  so  that  alto- 
gether, the  gentlemen  were  quite  as  ready  to  pay 
court  to  her  as  to  her  sister,  and  had  she  been  dis- 
posed to  receive  their  attentions,  or  to  push  herself 
forward  in  the  least,  her  parents  would  have  found 
it  difficult  to  prevent  her  entering  society  earlier 
than  was  for  her  good. 

But  like  her  mother  before  her,  Vi  was  in  no 
haste  to  assume  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of 
womanhood.      Only  fifteen  she  was 

"Standing  with  reluctant  feet 
Where  the  brook  and  river  meet, 
Womanhood  and  childhood  fleet." 

Hugh  Lilburn  and   Herbert  Carrington  both  re- 


270  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

garded  her  with  covetous  eyes,  and  both  asked  per- 
mission of  her  father  to  pay  their  addresses,  but 
received  the  same  answer  ; — that  she  was  too  young 
yet  to  be  approached  on  that  subject. 

"Well,  Mr.  Travilla,  if  you  say  that  to  every 
one,  as  no  doubt  you  do,  I'm  willing  to  wait,"  said 
Herbert  going  off  tolerably  contented. 

But  Hugh,  reddening  with  the  sudden  recollec- 
tion that  Violet  was  an  heiress,  and  his  portion  a 
very  moderate  one,  stammered  out  something  about 
hoping  he  was  not  mistaken  for  a  fortune  hunter, 
and  that  he  would  make  no  effort  to  win  her  until 
he  was  in  circumstances  to  do  so  with  propriety. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Travilla,  "do  not 
for  a  moment  imagine  that  has  anything  to  do  with 
my  refusal.  I  do  not  care  to  find  rich  husbands 
for  my  daughters,  and  were  Violet  of  proper  age, 
should  have  but  one  objection  to  you  as  a  suitor ; 
that  you  would  be  likely  to  carry  her  far  away 
from  us." 

"No,  no,  sir,  I  wouldn't!"  exclaimed  the  lad 
warmly.  "I  like  America,  and  think  I  shall  settle 
here.  And  sir,  I  thank  you  most  heartily  for  your 
kind  words.  But,  as  I've  said,  I  won't  ask  again 
till  I  can  do  so  with  propriety." 

Leland,  too,  admired  Violet  extremely,  and 
loved  her  with  brotherly  affection ;  but  it  was 
Elsie  who  had  won  his  heart. 

But  he  had  never  whispered  a  word  of  this  to  her, 
or  to  any  human  creature,  for  he  was  both  poor  and 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  271 

proud,  and  had  firmly  resolved  not  to  seek  her 
hand  until  his  art  should  bring  him  fame  and  for- 
tune to  lay  at  her  feet. 

Similar  considerations  alone  held  Malcom  Lil- 
burn  back,  and  each  was  tortured  with  the  fear 
that  the  other  would  prove  a  successful  rival. 

Philip  Ross,  too,  was  waiting  to  grow  rich,  but 
feared  no  rival  in  the  meantime ;  so  satisfied  was 
he  that  no  one  could  be  so  attractive  to  Elsie  as 
himself. 

"She's  waiting  for  me,"  he  said  to  his  mother, 
"  and  she  will  wait.  She's  just  friendly  and  kind 
to  those  other  fellows,  but  it's  plain  she  doesn't 
care  a  pin  for  any  of  them." 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,  Phil,"  returned  Mrs. 
Ross;  "some  one  may  cut  you  out.  Have  you 
spoken  to  her  yet  ?  Is  there  a  regular  engagement 
between  you  ?  ' ' 

"Oh,  no  !  but  we  understand  each  other ;  always 
have  since  we  were  mere  babies." 

Mrs.  Ross  and  her  daughters  had  accompanied 
Philip  to  the  shore,  and  it  pleased  Lucy  greatly 
that  they  had  been  able  to  obtain  rooms  in  the  same 
house  with  their  old  friends,  the  Travillas. 

Mr.  Hogg  was  of  the  party  also,  and  Elsie  and 
Violet  had  now  an  opportunity  to  judge  of  the  hap- 
piness of  Gertrude's  married  life. 

They  were  not  greatly  impressed  with  it  ;  hus- 
band and  wife  seemed  to  have  few  interests  in  com- 
mon, and  to  be  rather  bored  with  each  other's  society. 


272  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

Mr.  Hogg  had  a  fine  equipage,  and  drove  out  a 
great  deal,  sometimes  with  his  wife,  sometimes  with- 
out ;  both  dressed  handsomely  and  spent  money 
lavishly ;  but  he  did  not  look  happy,  and  Gertrude, 
when  off  her  guard,  wore  a  discontented,  care-worn 
expression. 

Mrs.  Ross  was  full  of  cares  and  anxieties,  and 
one  day  she  unburdened  her  heart  to  her  child- 
hood's friend. 

They  were  sitting  alone  together  on  the  veranda 
upon  which  Mrs.  Travilla's  room  opened,  waiting 
for  the  summons  to  the  tea-table. 

"I  have  no  peace  of  my  life,  Elsie,"  Lucy  said 
fretfully;  "one  can't  help  sympathizing  with 
one's  children,  and  ray  girls  don't  seem  happy 
like  yours. 

"Kate's  lively  and  pleasant  enough  in  com- 
pany, but  at  home  she's  dull  and  spiritless;  and 
though  Gertrude  has  made  what  is  considered  an 
excellent  match,  she  doesn't  seem  to  enjoy  life  ; 
she's  easily  fretted,  and  wants  change  and  excite- 
ment all  the  time." 

"Perhaps  matters  may  improve  with  her," 
Elsie  said,  longing  to  comfort  Lucy.  "Some 
couples  have  to  learn  to  accommodate  themselves 
to  each  other. ' ' 

"Well,  I  hope  it  may  be  so,"  Lucy  responded, 
sighing  as  though  the  hope  were  faint  in- 
deed. 

"And  Kate  may  grow  happier,  too;   dear  Lucy, 


ELSJE'S  CHILDREN.  273 

if  you  could  only  lead  her  to  Christ,  I  am  sure  she 
would,"  Elsie  went  on  low  and  tenderly. 

Mrs.  Ross  shook  her  head,  tears  trembling  in  her 
eyes. 

"  How  can  I  ?  I  have  not  found  him  myself 
yet.  Ah,  Elsie,  I  wish  I'd  begun  as  you  did. 
You  have  some  comfort  in  your  children ;  I've 
none  in  mine. 

"That  is,"  she  added,  hastily  correcting  her- 
self, ' '  not  as  much  as  I  ought  to  have,  except  in 
Phil;  he's  doing  well;  yet  even  he's  not  half  so 
thoughtful  and  affectionate  toward  his  father  and 
mother  as  your  boys  are.  But  then  of  course  he's 
of  a  different  disposition." 

"  Your  younger  boys  seem  fine  lads,"  Elsie  said  ; 
"  and  Sophie  has  a  winning  way." 

Lucy  looked  pleased,  then  sighed,  "  They  are 
nice  children,  but  so  wilful ;  and  the  boys  so  ven- 
turesome. I've  no  peace  when  they  are  out  of  my 
sight,  lest  they  should  be  in  some  danger." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SIXTH. 

"  Oh,  Lord  !  methought  what  pain  it  was  to  drown  !  " 
— Shakespeare. 

Cousin  Ronald  was  a  great  favorite  with  his 
young  relatives.  Harold  and  Herbert  had  long 
since  voted  him  quite  equal,  if  not  superior  to 
Captain  Brice  as  a  story-teller  ;  his  narratives  were 
fully  as  interesting,  and  beside  always  contained  a 
moral  or  some  useful  information. 

There  were  tales  of  the  sea,  wild  tales  of  the 
Highlands  and  of  the  Scottish  Border;  stories  of 
William  Wallace,  of  the  Bruce  and  the  Black 
Douglass,  in  all  of  which  the  children  greatly  de- 
lighted. 

Mr.  Lilburn's  ventriloquial  powers  were  used  for 
their  amusement  also,  and  altogether  they  found 
him  a  very  entertaining  companion. 

Rosie  holding  a  shell  to  her  ear  one  day,  was 
sent  into  ecstasies  of  delight,  by  hearing  low,  sweet 
strains  of  music,  apparently  coming  from  the  inside 
of  it. 

At  another  time,  as  she  stooped  to  pick  up  a 
dead  crab  while  wandering  along  the  beach,  she 
started  back  in  dismay  at  hearing  it  scream  out  in 
a  shrill,  tiny  voice,  "Don't  touch  me  !  I'll  pinch 
you,  if  you  do." 

274 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  275 

The  merry  laugh  of  the  boys  told  her  that  it  was 
"only  Cousin  Ronald,"  but  she  let  the  crab  alone, 
keeping  at  a  respectful  distance  from  its  claws. 

This  was  on  the  evening  spoken  of  in  our  last 
chapter,  and  while  her  mamma  and  Aunt  Lucy 
were  chatting  together  in  the  veranda,  waiting  for 
the  call  to  tea. 

It  sounded  presently,  and  Cousin  Ronald  and  the 
children  started  on  a  run  for  the  house,  trying  who 
could  get  there  first. 

Harold  showed  himself  the  fleetest  of  foot, 
Herbert  and  Frank  Daly  were  close  at  his  heels, 
while  Mr.  Lilburn,  with  Rosie  in  one  hand  and 
little  Walter  in  the  other,  came  puffing  and  blowing 
not  far  behind. 

"Won't  you  take  us  another  walk,  cousin?" 
asked  Rosie  when  they  came  out  again  after  the  meal. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "this  is  a  very  pleasant  time  to 
be  down  on  the  beach.  Come  lads,"  to  Harold 
and  Herbert,  "  will  you  go  along?  " 

They  were  only  too  glad  to  accept  the  invitation, 
and  the  four  sauntered  leisurely  down  to  the  water's 
edge,  where  they  strolled  along  watching  the  in- 
coming tide. 

"  I  love  the  sea,"  said  Rosie.  "  I  wish  we  could 
take  it  home  with  us." 

"  We  hue  a  lake  and  must  be  content  with  that," 
said  Herbert,  picking  up  a  stone  and  sending  it  far 
out,  to  fall  with  a  splash  in  among  the  restless  waves ; 
"we  can't  have  everything  in  one  place." 


276  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  mermaid,  Rosie?"  asked 
Mr.  Lilburn. 

"  No,  sir;  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  They're  said  to  live  in  the  sea,  and  to  be  half 
fish  and  half  woman." 

"  Ugh  !  that's  dreadful !  I  wouldn't  like  to  be 
half  of  a  fish.  But  I  wish  I  could  see  one.  Are 
there  any  in  our  sea  here,  Cousin  Ronald?  " 

"  They're  said  to  have  very  long  hair,"  he  went 
on,  not  noticing  her  query,  ' '  and  to  come  out  of 
the  water  and  sit  on  the  rocks,  sometimes,  while 
they  comb  it  out  with  their  fingers  and  sing. ' ' 

"Sing  !  Oh,  I'd  like  to  hear  'em  !  I  wish  one 
would  come  and  sit  on  that  big  rock  'way  out 
there. ' ' 

"Look  sharp  now  and  see  if  there  is  one  there. 
Hark  !  don't  you  hear  her  sing?  " 

Rosie  and  the  boys  stood  still,  listening  intently, 
and  in  another  moment  strains  of  music  seemed  to 
come  to  them  from  over  the  water,  from  the  direc- 
tion of  the  rock. 

"  Oh,  I  do  !  I  do  !  "  screamed  Rosie,  in  delight. 
"  O,  boys  can  you  hear  her,  too?  can  you  see 
her?" 

"I  hear  singing,"  said  Harold,  smiling,  "but  I 
think  the  rock  is  bare." 

"I  hear  the  music  too,"  remarked  Herbert, 
"but  I  suppose  Cousin  Ronald  makes  it.  A  mer- 
maid's only  a  fabled  creature." 

"  Fabled  ?  what's  that  ?  " 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  277 

"Only  pretend." 

"  Ah  now,  what  a  pity  !  " 

At  that  instant  a  piercing  scream  seemed  to 
come  from  the  sea  out  beyond  the  surf,  some  yards 
higher  up  the  coast.  "  Help  !  help  !  I'll  drown, 
I'll  drown  !  " 

Instantly  Harold  was  off  like  a  shot,  in  the 
direction  of  the  sound,  tearing  off  his  coat  as 
he  went,  while  Herbert  screaming  "  somebody's 
drowning  !  The  life  boat !  the  life  boat !  "  rushed 
away  toward  the  hotel. 

"Lads!  lads!"  cried  Mr.  Lilburn,  putting 
himself  to  his  utmost  speed  to  overtake  Harold  in 
time  to  prevent  him  from  plunging  into  the  sea, 
"are  ye  mad?  are  ye  daft?  There's  nobody 
there,  lads ;  'twas  only  Cousin  Ronald  at  his  old 
tricks  again." 

As  he  caught  up  to  Harold,  the  boy's  coat  and 
vest  lay  on  the  ground,  and  he  was  down  beside 
them,  tugging  at  his  boots  and  shouting  "  Hold 
on  !  I'm  coming,"  while  a  great  wave  came  rolling 
in  and  dashed  over  him,  wetting  him  from  head  to 
foot. 

"No,  ye're  not  !  "  cried  Mr.  Lilburn,  laying  a 
tight  grasp  upon  his  arm;  "there's  nobody  there; 
and  if  there  was,  what  could  a  bit,  frafl  laddie  like 
you  do  to  rescue  him  ?  You'd  only  be  dragged 
under  yourself." 

'•Nobody  there?  oh,  I'm  so  glad!"  cried 
Harold    with    a   hearty   laugh,    as   he  jumped   up, 


278  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

snatched  his  clothes  from  the  ground  and  sprang 
hastily  back  just  in  time  to  escape  the  next  wave. 
"But  you  gave  us  a  real  scare  this  time,  Cousin 
Ronald." 

"You  gave  me  one,"  said  Mr.  Lilburn,  joining 
in  the  laugh.  "  I  thought  you'd  be  in  the  sea  and 
may  be  out  of  reach  of  help  before  I  could  catch 
up  to  you.     You  took  no  time  to  deliberate." 

"Deliberate  when  somebody  was  drowning! 
There  wouldn't  have  been  a  second  to  lose." 

"You'd  just  have  thrown  your  own  life  away, 
lad,  if  there  had  been  anybody  there.  Don't  you 
know  it's  an  extremely  hazardous  thing  for  a  man 
to  attempt  to  rescue  a  drowning  person  ?  They're 
so  apt  to  catch,  and  grip  you  in  a  way  to  deprive 
you  of  the  power  to  help  yourself  and  to  drag  you 
under  with  them. 

"  I  honor  you  for  your  courage,  but  I  wish,  my 
boy,  you'd  promise  me  never  to  do  the  like  again ; 
at  least  not  till  you're  grown  up  and  have  some 
strength." 

"And  leave  a  fellow-creature  to  perish  !  "  cried 
the  boy  almost  indignantly.  "  O  cousin,  could 
you  ask  me  to  be  so  selfish  ?  " 

"Not  selfish,  lad;  only  prudent.  If  you  want 
to  rescue  a  drowning  man,  throw  him  a  rope,  or 
reach  him  the  end  of  a  pole,  or  do  anything  else 
you  can  without  putting  yourself  within  reach  of 
his  hands." 

Rosie,  left  behind  by  all  her  companions,  looked 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  279 

this  way  and  that  in  fright  and  perplexity,  then  ran 
after  Herbert ;  as  that  was  the  direction  to  take  her 
to  her  father  and  mother. 

Mr.  Travilla  and  Eddie  had  started  toward  the 
beach  to  join  the  others  and  were  the  first  to  hear 
Herbert's  cry. 

••Oh,  it  was  Cousin  Ronald,"  said  the  latter; 
"nobody  goes  in  bathing  at  this  hour." 

"Probably,"  said  his  father,  "yet — ah,  there's 
the  life  boat  out  now  and  moving  toward  the 
spot." 

With  that  they  all  ran  in  the  same  direction  and 
Mr.  Lilburn  and  Harold  just  as  the  boy 
had  resumed  his  coat  and  the  gentleman  concluded 
his  exhortation. 

They  all  saw  at  once  that  Eddie  had  been  cor- 

.  his  conjecture. 
".         »!     '.'.here's     your    drowning    man?"    he 
calle  1.     "  Or,  was  it  a  woman?" 

"Ask   Cousin   Ronald,"  said  Harold  laughing, 
best  acquainted  with  the  person." 

"  A  hoax  was  it  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Travilla.  "  Well, 
I'm  glad  things  are  no  worse.  Run  home  my  son, 
and  change  your  clothes;   you're  quite  wet." 

"1  fear  I  owe  you  an  apology,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Lilburn  ;  "but  the  fact  is  I'd  a  great  desire  to  try 
the  mettle  of  the  lads,  and  I  believe  they're  brave 
fellows,  both,  and  not  lacking  in  that  very  use- 
ful and  commendable  quality  called  presence  of 
mind." 


28o  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  Mr.  Travilla  said,  turning 
upon  his  boys  a  glance  of  fatherly  pride  that  sent 
a  thrill  of  joy  to  their  young  hearts. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

"  Nursed  by  the  virtues  she  hath  been 
From  childhood's  hour." 

— HALLECK. 

"  Count  all  th'  advantage  prosperous  vice  attains, 
Tis  but  what  virtue  flies  from  and  disdains; 
And  grant  the  bad  what  happiness  they  would, 
One  they  must  want — which  is  to  pass  for  good." 

— Pope. 

Mrs.  Travilla  was  sitting  on  the  veranda  of 
the  hotel,  reading  a  letter  her  husband  had  handed 
her  at  the  tea-table,  when  Violet  came  rushing  to- 
ward her  in  wild  affright. 

"  Mamma,  mamma,  something's  wrong  !  some- 
thing's happened  !  Herbie  just  came  running  up 
from  the  beach,  calling  for  the  life  boat,  and  papa 
and  Eddie  have  gone  back  with  him  running  as 
fast  as  they  can.  Oh,  I'm  afraid  Harold  or  Rosie 
has  fallen  into  the  water!"  she  added  bursting 
into  hysterical  weeping. 

Her  mother  rose  hastily,  thrusting  the  letter  into 
her  pocket,  pale  but  calm. 

"Daughter  dear,  we  will  not  meet  trouble  half 
way.      I   do  not    think  it  could  be  they  ;   for  they 
are  not  disobedient  or  venturesome.      But  come." 
And  together  they  hurried  toward  the  beach. 
281 


282  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

In  a  moment  they  perceived  that  their  fears  were 
groundless,  for  they  could  see  their  dear  ones  com- 
ing to  meet  them. 

Violet's  tears  were  changed  to  laughter  as  Har- 
old gave  a  humorous  account  of  "  Cousin  Ronald's 
sell,"  as  he  called  it,  and  the  latter's  praise  of  the 
boy's  bravery  and  readiness  to  respond  to  the  cry 
for  help,  brought  proud,  happy  smiles  to  the  lips 
and  eyes  of  both  mother  and  sisters. 

Elsie  had  joined  them;  Mrs'.  Ross,  too,  and  a 
handsome,  richly  dressed,  middle-aged  lady,  whom 
she  introduced  as  her  friend,  Mrs.  Faude,  from 
Kentucky. 

They,  as  Lucy  afterward  told  Elsie,  had  made 
acquaintance  the  year  before  at  Saratoga,  and  were 
glad  to  meet  again. 

Mrs.  Faude  was  much  taken  with  Elsie  and  her 
daughters,  pleased,  indeed,  with  the  whole  family, 
and  from  that  time  forward  sought  their  society 
very  frequently. 

Elsie  found  her  an  entertaining  companion,  pol- 
ished in  manners,  refined,  intelligent,  highly  edu- 
cated and  witty ;  but  a  mere  worldling,  caring  for 
the  pleasures  and  rewards  of  this  life  only. 

She  was  a  wealthy  widow  with  but  one  child,  a 
grown  up  son,  of  whom  she  talked  a  great  deal. 

"Clarence  Augustus"  was  evidently,  in  his 
mother's  eyes,  the  perfection  of  manly  beauty  and 
grace,  a  great  genius,  and  indeed  everything  that 
could  be  desired. 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  2S3 

"He  is  still  single,"  she  one  day  said  signifi- 
cantly to  the  younger  Elsie,  "  though  I  know  plenty 
of  lovely  girls,  desirable  matches  in  every  way, 
who  would  have  been  delighted  with  the  offer  of 
his  hand.  Yes,  my  dear,  I  am  quite  sure  of  it," 
she  added,  seeing  a  slight  smile  of  incredulity  on 
the  young  girl's  face;  "only  wait  till  you  have 
seen  him.     He  will  be  here  to-morrow." 

Elsie  was  quite  willing  to  wait,  and  no  dreams  of 
Mrs.  Faude's  idol  disturbed  either  her  sleeping  or 
waking  hours. 

Clarence  Augustus  made  his  appearance  duly  the 
next  day  at  the  dinner  table ;  a  really  handsome 
man,  if  regular  features  and  fine  coloring  be  all 
that  is  necessary  to  constitute  good  looks  ;  but  his 
face  wore  an  expression  of  self-satisfaction  and  con- 
tempt for  others,  which  was  not  attractive  to  our 
Ion  friends. 

But  it  soon  became  evident  to  them,  that  to  most 
of  the  other  ladies  in  the  house,  he  was  an  object 
of  admiration. 

His  mother  seized  an  early  opportunity  to  intro- 
duce him  to  the  Misses  Travilla,  coming  upon  them 
as  they  stood  talking  together  upon  the  veranda. 

But  they  merely  bowed  and  withdrew,  having, 
fortunately,  an  engagement  to  drive,  at  that  hour, 
with  their  parents  and  cousins,  along  the  beach. 

"What  do  you  think  of  him?"  asked  Violet, 
when  they  had  reached  their  room. 

"  He  has  good  features,  and  a  polished  address." 


284  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"  Yes ;  but  do  you  like  his  looks  ?  " 

"  No;  I  do  not  desire  his  acquaintance." 

"  Nor  I ;  he's  not  the  sort  that  papa  and  grandpa 
would  wish  us  to  know." 

"  No;  so  let  us  keep  out  of  his  way." 

"But  without  seeming  to  do  so?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  as  far  as  we  can.  We  don't  wish  to 
hurt  his  feelings  or  his  mother's." 

They  carried  out  their  plan  of  avoidance,  and  so 
skilfully  that  neither  mother  nor  son  was  quite  sure 
it  was  intended.  In  fact,  it  was  difficult  for  them 
to  believe  that  any  girl  could  wish  to  shun  the  at- 
tentions of  a  young  man  so  attractive  in  every  way 
as  was  Clarence  Augustus  Faude. 

"  I  should  like  you  to  marry  one  of  those  girls," 
the  mother  said  to  her  son,  chatting  alone  with  him 
in  her  own  room;  "  you  could  not  do  better,  for 
they  are  beautiful,  highly  educated  and  accom- 
plished, and  will  have  large  fortunes." 

"Which?"  he  added  sententiously,  and  with  a 
smile  that  seemed  to  say,  he  was  conscious  that  he 
had  only  to  take  his  choice. 

"I  don't  care;  there's  hardly  a  pin  to  choose 
between  them." 

"  Just  my  opinion.  Well,  I  think  I  shall  go  for 
the  brown  eyes  ;  as  you  tell  me  the  other  is  not  yet 
out,  and  I  hear  the  father  refuses,  on  that  plea,  to 
allow  any  one  to  pay  his  addresses — though,  be- 
tween you  and  me,  Mrs.  F. ,  I  fancy  he  might  make 
an  exception  in  my  favor." 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  2S5 

"It  would  not  surprise  me,  Clarence  Augustus," 
she  responded,  regarding  him  with  a  proud,  fond 
smile,  "  I  fancy  he  must  be  aware  that  there's  no 
better  match  in  the  Union.  But  you  have  no  time 
to  lose,  they  may  leave  here  any  day." 

"True,  but  what's  to  hinder  us  from  following? 
However,  I  will  take  your  advice,  and  lose  no 
time.  Let  me  borrow  your  writing  desk  for  a  mo- 
ment. I'll  ask  her  to  drive  with  me  this  morning, 
and  while  we're  out  secure  her  company  for  the 
boating  party  that's  to  come  off  to-morrow." 

A  itw  moments  later  the  younger  Elsie  came  into 
her  mother's  room  with  a  note  written  in  a  manly 
hand,  on  delicately  perfumed  and  tinted  French 
paper. 

"What  shall  I  do  about  it,  mamma?"  she 
asked.  "Will  you  answer  it  for  me.  Of  course 
you  know  I  do  not  wish  to  accept." 

"  I  will,  daughter,"  Mrs.  Travilla  said,  "though 
if  he  were  such  a  man  as  I  could  receive  into  my 
family  on  friendly  terms,  I  should  prefer  to  have 
you  answer  it  yourself." 

Mr.  Faude's  very  handsome  carriage  and  horses 
were  at  the  door,  a  liveried  servant  holding  the 
reins,  while  the  gentleman  himself  waited  in  the 
parlor  for  the  coming  of  the  young  lady,  who,  he 
doubted  not,  would  be  well  pleased  to  accept  his 
invitation.  He  was  not  kept  waiting  long;  had, 
indeed,  scarcely  seated  himself  and  taken  up  the 
morning  paper,  when  Mr.  Travilla's  Ren  appeared 


286  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

with  a  note,  presented  it  in  grave  silence,  and  with 
a  respectful  bow,  withdrew. 

"Hold  on!  It  may  require  an  answer,"  Mr. 
Faude  called  after  him. 

"  No,  sah  ;  Mrs.  Travilla  say  dere's  no  answer," 
returned  Ben,  looking  back  for  an  instant  from  the 
doorway,  then  vanishing  through  it. 

"All  right!"  muttered  Clarence  Augustus, 
opening  the  missive  and  glancing  over  the  con- 
tents ;  an  angry  flush  suffusing  his  face,  as  he  read. 

"What  is  it?  She  hasn't  declined,  surely?" 
Mrs.  Faude  asked  in  an  undertone,  close  at  his 
side. 

"Just  that;  it's  from  the  mother;  thanks  me 
for  the  invitation,  but  respectfully  declines  ;  not 
even  vouchsafing  a  shadow  of  an  excuse.  What 
can  it  mean  ?  ' ' 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  But  if  they  knew 
you  had  serious  intentions — it  might  make  a  dif- 
ference. ' ' 

"  Possibly.     I'll  soon  bring  it  to  the  proof." 

He  rose  and  went  out  in  search  of  Mr.  Travilla, 
found  him  alone,  and  at  once  asked  his  permission 
to  pay  his  addresses  to  Elsie. 

The  request  was  courteously,  but  decidedly  and 
firmly  refused. 

"  May  I  ask  why?"  queried  the  young  man  in 
anger  and  astonishment. 

"  Because,  sir,  it  would  not  be  agreeable  ta 
either  my  daughter  herself,  to  her  mother  or  to  me," 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  2S7 

"  Then  I  must  say,  sir,  that  you  are  all  three  hard 
to  please.      But  pray,  sir,  what  is  the  objection?  " 

"  Do  you  insist  upon  knowing?  " 

"  I  do,   sir." 

"  Then  let  me  answer  your  query  with  another. 
Would  you  pay  your  addresses  to  a  young  woman — 
however  wealthy,  beautiful  or  high-born — whose 
moral  character  was  not  better,  whose  life  had  been 
no  purer  than  your  own  ?  " 

"Of  course  not!"  exclaimed  Faude,  coloring 
violently,  "  but  who  expects " 

"  I  do,  sir;  I  expect  the  husbands  of  my 
daughters  to  be  as  pure  and  stainless  as  my  sons' 
wives." 

"I'm  as  good  as  the  rest,  sir.  You'll  not  find 
one  young  fellow  in  five  hundred  who  has  sowed 
fewer  wild  oats  than  I." 

"  I  fear  that  may  be  true  enough,  but  it  does  not 
alter  my  decision,"  returned  Mr.  Travilla,  intimat- 
ing by  a  bow  and  a  slight  wave  of  the  hand,  that 
he  considered  the  interview  at  an  end. 

Faude  withdrew  in  anger,  but  with  an  inten- 
sified desire  to  secure  the  coveted  prize ;  the  more 
difficult  of  acquisition,  the  more  desirable  it 
seemed. 

He  persuaded  his  mother  to  become  his  advo- 
cate with  Mrs.  Travilla. 

She  at  first  flatly  refused,  but  at  length  yielded 
to  his  entreaties,  and  undertook  the  difficult,  and 
to  her  haughty  spirit,  humiliating  mission. 


288  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

Requesting  a  private  interview  with  Elsie,  she 
told  her  of  the  wishes  of  Clarence  Augustus,  and 
plead  his  cause  with  all  the  eloquence  of  which  she 
was  mistress. 

"My  boy  would  make  your  daughter  a  good 
husband,"  she  said,  "and  indeed,  I  think  any 
woman  might  feel  highly  honored  by  the  offer  of 
his  hand.  I  do  not  understand  how  it  is,  Mrs. 
Travilla,  that  a  lady  of  your  sense  fails  to  see 
that." 

"  I  appreciate  your  feelings,  my  dear  Mrs. 
Faude,"  said  Elsie  gently.  "  I  am  a  mother  too, 
you  know,  and  have  sons  of  my  own." 

"  Yes,  and  what  possible  objection  can  you  have 
to  mine  ?  Excuse  my  saying  it,  but  the  one  your 
husband  advanced,  seems  to  me  simply  absurd." 

"  Nevertheless  it  is  the  only  one  ;  except  that  our 
child's  heart  is  not  enlisted  ;  but  either  alone  would 
be  insuperable." 

"  She  hardly  knows  him  yet,  and  could  not  fail 
to  learn  to  love  him  if  she  did.  Be  persuaded  my 
dear  Mrs.  Travilla,  to  give  him  a  chance  to  try. 
It  is  never  well  to  be  hasty,  especially  in  declining 
a  good  offer,  and  this,  let  me  tell  you,  is  such  an 
one  as  you  will  not  meet  with  every  day,  lovely 
and  attractive  in  every  way,  as  your  daughters  are. 

"  Ours  is  an  old,  aristocratic  family;  none  better 
to  be  found  in  our  state,  or  in  the  Union  ;  we  have 
wealth  too,  and  I  flatter  myself  that  Clarence 
Augustus  is  as  handsome  a  man  as  you  would  find 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  289 

anywhere ;  amiable  in  disposition  also,  and  would, 
as  I  said  before,  make  an  excellent  husband.  Will 
you  not  undertake  his  cause?  " 

"  Believe  me,  it  is  painful  to  me  to  refuse,  but  I 
could  not,  in  conscience." 

"  But  why  not?  " 

"Simply  for  the  reason  my  husband  gave. 
We  both  consider  moral  purity  more  essential  than 
anything  else  in  those  we  admit  to  even  friendly 
intercourse  with  our  children  ;  especially  our 
daughters." 

"  My  son  is  not  a  bad  man,  Mrs.  Travilla,  very 
far  from  it  1  "  Mrs.  Faude  exclaimed,  in  the  tone 
of  one  who  considers  herself  grossly  insulted. 

"  Not,  I  am  sure,  as  the  world  looks  upon 
these  things,"  said  Elsie,  "  but  the  Bible  is  our 
standard  ;  and  guided  by  its  teachings  we  desire 
above  all  things  else,  purity  of  heart  and  life  in 
those  who  seek  the  friendship  of  our  children  ;  and 
very  especially  in  those  who  are  to  become  their 
partners  for  life,  and  the  future  fathers  or  mothers 
of  their  offspring,  should  it  please  God  to  give  them 
any." 

"That  is  certainly  looking  far  ahead,"  returned 
Mrs.  Faude,  with  a  polite  sneer. 

"  Not  farther  than  is  our  duty,  since  after  mar- 
riage it  is  too  late  to  consider,  to  any  profit,  what 
kind  of  parent  our  already  irrevocably  chosen 
partner  for  life  will  probably  make." 

"  Well,  well,  every  one  to  her  taste  !  "  said  Mrs 


290  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

Faude,  rising  to  go,  "  but  had  I  a  daughter,  I 
should  infinitely  prefer  for  her  husband,  such  a 
young  man  as  my  Clarence  Augustus  to  such  as 
that  poor  artist  who  is  so  attentive  to  Miss  Travilla. 

"Good-morning.  I  am  sure  I  may  trust  you 
not  to  blazon  this  matter  abroad  ?  ' ' 

"  You  certainly  may,  Mrs.  Faude,"  Elsie  re- 
turned with  sweet  and  gentle  courtesy,  "and  be- 
lieve me,  it  has  been  very  painful  to  me  to  speak 
words  that  have  given  pain  to  you." 

"What  is  it,  little  wife?"  Mr.  Travilla  asked, 
coming  in  a  moment  after  Mrs.  Faude' s  departure 
and  finding  Elsie  alone  and  seemingly  sunk  in  a 
painful  reverie. 

She  repeated  what  had  just  passed,  adding,  "I 
am  very  glad  now  that  we  decided  to  return  to 
Philadelphia  to-morrow.  I  could  see  that  Mrs. 
Faude  was  deeply  offended,  and  it  would  be  un- 
pleasant to  both  of  us  to  remain  longer  in  the 
same  house ;  but  as  she  and  her  son  go  with  the 
boating  party  to-day,  and  we  leave  early  in  the 
morning,  we  are  not  likely  to  encounter  each  other 
again." 

"  Yes,  it  is  all  for  the  best,"  he  said.  "  But  J 
wish  I  could  have  shielded  you  from  this  trial." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

** The  brave  man  is  not  he  who  feels  no  fear, 
For  that  were  stupid  and  irrational ; 
But  he  whose  soul  its  fear  subdues, 
And  bravely  dares  the  danger  nature  shrinks  from." 

— Baillie. 

The  Travillas  returned  home  to  Ion  in  November 
and  took  up  with  new  zest  the  old  and  loved  routine 
of  study,  work  and  play. 

Elsie  was  no  longer  a  schoolgirl,  but  still  de- 
voted some  hours  of  each  day  to  the  cultivation  of 
her  mind  and  the  keeping  up  of  her  accomplish- 
ments ;  also  pursued  her  art  studies  with  renewed 
ardor  under  the  tuition  of  Lester  Leland,  who,  his 
health  requiring  during  the  winter,  a  warmer  climate 
than  that  of  his  northern  home,  had  come  at  the 
urgent  request  of  his  relatives,  to  spend  the  season 
at  Fairview. 

Elsie  had  a  number  of  gentlemen  friends,  some 
of  whom  she  highly  esteemed,  but  Lester's  society 
was  preferred  to  that  of  any  other. 

Malcom  Lilburn  had  grown  very  jealous  of  Lester, 
and  found  it  difficult  indeed  to  refrain  from  telling 
his  love,  but  had  gone  away  without  breathing  a 
word  of  it  to  any  one. 

Not  to  Scotland,  however  ;  he  and  his  father  were 
291 


292  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

traveling  through  the  West,  visiting  the  principal 
points  of  interest,  and  had  partly  promised  to  take 
Ion  in  their  way  as  they  returned ;  which  would 
probably  not  be  before  spring. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Travilla  were  not  exempt  from  the 
cares  and  trials  incident  to  our  fallen  state,  but  no 
happier  parents  could  be  found ;  they  were  already 
reaping  as  they  had  sowed ;  indeed  it  seemed  to 
them  that  they  had  been  reaping  all  the  way  along, 
so  sweet  was  the  return  of  affection  from  the  little 
clinging,  helpless  ones,  the  care  of  whom  had  been 
no  less  a  pleasure  than  a  sacred,  God-given  duty  ; 
but  with  each  passing  year  the  harvest  grew  richer 
and  more  abundant ;  the  eldest  three  had  become 
very  companionable  and  the  intercourse  between 
the  two  Elsies  was  more  like  that  of  sisters,  than  of 
mother  and  daughter ;  the  young  girl  loved  her 
mother's  society  above  that  of  any  other  of  her  sex, 
and  "  mamma  "  was  still,  as  she  had  ever  been,  her 
most  intimate  friend  and  confidante. 

And  was  it  not  wise  ?  who  so  tender,  faithful  and 
prudent  a  guide  and  counsellor  as  the  mother  to 
whom  she  was  dearer  than  life. 

It  was  the  same  with  the  others  also — both  sons 
and  daughters ;  and  they  were  scarcely  less  open 
with  their  wisely  indulgent  father. 

Life  was  not  at  all  sunshine ;  the  children  had 
their  faults  which  would  occasionally  show  them- 
selves ;  but  the  parents,  conscious  of  their  own  im- 
perfections,  were   patient   and  forbearing.     They 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  293 

were  sometimes  tried  with  sickness  too,  but  it  was 
borne  with  cheerful  resignation ;  and  no  one  could 
say  what  the  future  held  in  store  for  any  of  them  ; 
but  God  reigned,  the  God  whom  they  had  chosen 
as  their  portion,  and  their  inheritance  forever,  and 
they  left  all  with  him,  striving  to  obey  the  com- 
mand to  be  without  carefulness. 

The  winter  passed  quietly,  almost  without  inci- 
dent save  one. 

Eddie  had  been  spending  the  afternoon  with  his 
cousins  at  Pinegrove  (some  of  them  were  lads 
near  his  own  age,  and  fine,  intelligent,  good 
boys;,  had  stayed  to  tea  and  was  riding  home 
alone,  except  that  he  had  an  attendant  in  the  per- 
son of  a  young  negro  boy,  who  rode  some  yards  in 
his  rear. 

It  was  already  dark  when  they  started,  but  the 
stars  shone  down  from  a  clear  sky,  although  a  keen, 
cold  wind  blew  from  the  north. 

Part  of  the  way  lay  through  a  wood,  in  the  midst 
of  which  stood  a  hut  occupied  by  a  family  by  the 
name  of  Smith,  belonging  to  the  class  known  as 
"poor  whites";  shiftless,  lazy,  and  consequently 
very  poor  indeed,  they  were.  Many  efforts  had 
been  put  forth  in  their  behalf,  by  the  families  of  the 
Oaks  and  Ion,  and  by  others  also,  but  thus  far 
with  small  results,  for  it  is  no  easy  matter  to 
effectually  help  those  who  will  not  try  to  help 
themselves. 

As  Eddie  entered  the  wood,  he  thought  he  smelt 


294  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

smoke,  and  presently  a  sudden  turn  in  the  road 
brought  into  view  the  dwelling  of  the  Smiths  all 
wrapped  in  flames. 

Putting  spurs  to  his  horse,  at  the  sight,  Eddie 
flew  along  the  road  shouting  at  the  top  of  his  lungs, 
"  Fire  !  fire  !  fire  I  "  Jim,  his  attendant,  following 
his  example. 

But  there  was  no  one  within  hearing,  save  the 
Smiths  themselves. 

The  head  of  the  family,  half  stupefied  with  rum, 
stood  leaning  against  the  fence,  his  hands  in  the 
pockets  of  his  ragged  coat,  a  pipe  in  his  mouth, 
gazing  in  a  dazed  sort  of  way  upon  the  work  of 
destruction ;  while  the  wife  and  children  ran  hither 
and  thither,  screaming  and  wringing  their  hands 
with  never  a  thought  of  an  attempt  to  extinguish 
the  flames  or  save  any  of  their  few  poor  possessions. 

"Sam  Smith,"  shouted  Eddie,  reining  in  his 
horse  close  to  the  individual  addressed,  "  why 
don't  you  drop  that  old  pipe,  take  your  hands 
out  of  your  pockets,  and  go  to  work  to  put  out  the 
fire  !  " 

"Eh  !  "  cried  Sam,  turning  slowly  round  so  as 
to  face  his  interlocutor,  "why — I — I — I  couldn't 
do  nothin' ;  it's  bound  to  go — that  house  is  ;  don't 
you  see  how  the  wind's  a  blowin'  ?  Well,  'tain't 
much  'count  nohow,  and  I  wouldn't  care,  on'y  she 
says  she's  left  the  baby  in  there;  so  she  does." 

"  The  baby  ?  "  and  almost  before  the  words  had 
left  his  lips,  Eddie  had  cleared  the  rough  rail  fence 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  295 

at  a  bound,  and  was  rushing  toward  the  burning 
house. 

How  the  flames  crackled  and  roared,  seeming 
like  demons  greedily  devouring  all  that  came  in 
their  way. 

"That  horse  blanket,  Jim  !  bring  it  here  quick, 
quick  !  "  he  shouted  back  to  his  servant.  Then  to 
the  half-crazed  woman,  "Where  is  your  baby? 
where  did  you  leave  it  ?  " 

"In  there,  in  there  on  the  bed,  oh,  oh,  it's 
burnin'  all  up  !  I  forgot  it,  an'  I  couldn't  get 
back." 

Eddie  made  one  step  backward,  and  ran  his  eye 
rapidly  over  the  burning  pile,  calmly  taking  in  the 
situation,  considering  whether  the  chances  of  suc- 
cess were  sufficient  to  warrant  the  awful  risk. 

It  was  the  work  of  an  instant  to  do  that,  snatch 
the  blanket  from  Jim,  wrap  it  around  his  person, 
and  plunge  in  among  the  flames,  smoke,  and  fall- 
ing firebrands,  regardless  of  the  boy's  frightened 
protest,  "Oh,  Mr.  Eddie  don't;  you'll  be  killed  ! 
you'll  burn  all  up  !  " 

He  had  looked  into  the  cabin  but  a  day  or  two 
before,  and  remembered  in  which  corner  stood  the 
rude  bed  of  the  family,  their  only  one.  He  groped 
his  way  to  it,  half  suffocated  by  the  heat  and 
smoke,  and  in  momentary  dread  of  the  falling  in 
of  the  roof,  reached  it  at  last,  and  feeling  about 
among  the  scanty  coverings,  laid  hold  of  the  child, 
which  was  either  insensible  or  sound  asleep. 


296  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

Taking  it  in  his  young,  strong  arms,  holding  it 
underneath  the  blanket,  which  he  drew  closer 
about  his  person,  he  rushed  back  again,  stepping 
from  the  door  just  as  the  roof  fell  in  with  a 
crash. 

The  woman  snatched  her  babe,  and  its  gallant 
rescuer  fell  fainting  to  the  ground.  A  falling  beam 
had  grazed  his  head  and  struck  him  a  heavy  blow 
upon  the  shoulder. 

With  a  cry  Jim  sprang  forward,  dragged  his 
young  master  out  of  reach  of  the  flying  sparks,  the 
overpowering  heat,  and  suffocating  smoke,  and 
dropping,  blubbering,  down  by  his  side,  tried  to 
loosen  his  cravat. 

"Fetch  some  wattah  !  "  he  called,  "quick  dar, 
you  ongrateful  white  trash  !  you  gwine  let  young 
Marse  Eddie  die,  when  he  done  gone  saved  yo' 
baby  from  burnin'  up  ?  " 

"  Take  the  gourd  and  run  to  the  spring  Celestia 
Ann ;  quick,  quick  as  you  kin  go,"  said  the 
mother  hugging  up  her  rescued  child,  and  wiping 
a  tear  from  her  eye  with  the  corner  of  a  very  dirty 
apron . 

"There  ain't  none,"  answered  the  child,  "we 
uns  ain't  got  nothin'  left;   it's  all  burnt  up." 

But  a  keen,  fresh  air  was  already  reviving  our 
hero. 

"  Take  me  home,  Jim,"  he  said  faintly.  "  Stop 
that  wagon,"  as  one  was  heard  rumbling  down  the 
road,  still  at  some  distance. 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  297 

"Hollo  dar !  jes  stop  an'  take  a  passenger 
aboard  !  "  shouted  Jim,  springing  to  his  feet  and 
rushing  into  the  road,  waving  his  cap  above  his 
head. 

"Hollo!"  shouted  back  the  other,  "  dat  you 
Jim  Yates?  Burnin'  down  Smith's  house.  Dat's 
a  plenepotentiary  crime,  dat  is,  sah  !  " 

"Oh  go  'long,  you  fool,  Pete  White  !  "  retorted 
Jim,  as  the  other  drew  rein  close  at  his  side,  "  you 
bet  you  don't  catch  dis  niggah  a  burnin'  no  houses. 
Spect  ole  Smith  set  de  fire  goin'  hisself  wid  dat  ole 
pipe  o'  his'n  !  " 

"An'  it's  clar  burnt  down  to  de  ground,"  ob- 
served Pete,  gazing  with  eager  interest  at  the 
smouldering  ruins.  "  What  you  s'pose  dey's 
gwine  to  do  for  sheltah  for  dem  po'  chillen?  " 

"  Dat  ain't  no  concern  ob  mine,"  returned  Jim 
indifferently.  "  Ise  consarned  'bout  getting  young 
Marse  Ed'ard  safe  home,  an'  don't  care  nuffin'  for 
all  de  white  trash  in  de  country.  Jes  hitch  yo' 
hoss  an'  help  me  lift  him  into  de  wagon." 

"What's  de  mattah?"  queried  Pete,  leisurely 
dismounting  and  slowly  hitching  his  horse  to  a  tree. 

"Oh  you  hurry  up,  you  ole  darky  !  "  returned 
Jim  impatiently.  '•  Mr.  Ed'ard's  lyin'  dar  in  <le 
cold  ;  'catch  his  diff  if  you's  gwine  to  be  all  night 
'bout  gittin'  to  him." 

"Ise  got  de  rhcumatiz,  chile;  ole  folks  can't 
turn  roun'  like  young  uns,"  returned  Pete  quick- 
ening his  movements  somewhat  as  he  clambered 


298  ELSIE'S  CHILD  RE  A. 

over  the  fence  and  followed  Jim  to  the  spot  where 
Eddie  lay. 

"  Hurt,  sah  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  little ;  I  fear  I  can  hardly  sit  my  horse — for 
this  faintness,"  Eddie  answered,  low  and  feebly. 
"  Can  you  put  me  into  your  wagon  and  drive  me 
to  Ion?  " 

"Yes,  sah;  wid  de  greatest  pleasah  in  life,  sah. 
Mr.  Travilla  and  de  Ion  ladies  ben  berry  kind  to 
me  an'  my  ole  woman  and  de  chillen." 

Mrs.  Smith  and  her  dirty  ragged  little  troop  had 
gathered  round,  still  crying  over  their  fright  and 
their  losses,  curious  too  about  the  young  gentleman 
who  had  saved  the  baby  and  was  lying  there  on 
the  ground  so  helpless. 

"Are  ye  much  hurt,  Mr.  Edward?  "  asked  the 
woman.  "  Oh  yer  mother' 11  never  forgive  me  fur 
lettin'  ye  risk  yer  life  that  away  !  " 

"  I  don't  think  the  injury  is  serious,  Mrs.  Smith, 
at  least  I  hope  not;  and  you  were  not  to  blame," 
he  answered,  "so  make  yourself  easy.  Now,  Pete 
and  Jim,  give  me  an  arm,  each  of  you." 

They  helped  him  into  the  wagon  and  laid  him 
down,  putting  the  scorched  horse  blanket  under  his 
head  for  a  pillow. 

"Now  drive  a  little  carefully,  Pete,"  he  said, 
suppressing  a  groan,  "and  look  out  for  the  ruts, 
I'd  rather  not  be  jolted. 

"  And  you,  Sim,  ride  on  ahead  and  lead  Prince. 
I  want  you  to  get  in  before  us,  ask  for  my  father 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  299 

and  tell  him  I've  had  an  accident ;  am  not  seriously 
hurt,  but  want  my  mother  prepared.  She  must 
not  be  alarmed  by  seeing  me  brought  in  unexpect- 
edly, in  this  state." 

His  orders  were  obeyed,  Jim  reached  Ion  some 
ten  minutes  ahead  of  the  wagon  and  gave  due 
warning  of  its  approach.  He  met  his  master  in  the 
avenue  and  told  his  story  in  a  tolerably  straight- 
forward manner. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Edward  now?"  asked  Mr. 
Travilla. 

"  De  wagon's  jes  down  de  road  dar  a  piece,  sah ; 
be  here  in  'bout  five  minutes,  sah." 

"  Then  off  for  the  doctor,  Jim,  as  fast  as  you 
can  go.  Here,  give  me  Prince's  bridle.  Now 
don't  let  the  grass  grow  under  your  horse's  feet. 
Either  Dr.  Barton,  or  Dr.  Arthur;  it  doesn't  mat- 
tei  which;  only  get  him  here  speedily."  And 
vaulting  into  the  saddle  Mr.  Travilla  rode  back  to 
the  house,  dismounted,  throwing  the  bridle  to 
Solon,  and  went  in. 

Opening  the  door  of  the  drawing-room  where 
the  family  were  gathered  : 

"Wife,"  he  said  cheerfully,  "will  you  please 
step  here  a  moment?" 

She  came  at  once  and  followed  him  down  the 
hall,  asking,  "  What  is  it,  Edward?"  for  her  heart 
misgave  her  that  something  was  wrong. 

"Not  much,  I  hope,  dearest,"  he  said,  turning 
and   taking   her   in  his  arms.      "Our  boy,  Eddie, 


3<x>  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

has  done  a  brave  deed  and  suffered  some  injury  by 
it,  but  nothing  serious,  I  trust.  He  will  be  here  in 
a  moment." 

He  felt  her  cling  to  him  with  a  convulsive  grasp, 
he  heard  her  quick  coming  breath,  the  whispered 
words,  "  Oh,  my  son  !  Dear  Lord,  help  !  "  then, 
as  the  rumble  of  the  wagon  wheels  was  heard  near- 
ing  the  door,  she  put  her  hand  in  his,  calm  and 
quiet,  and  went  forth  with  him  to  meet  their 
wounded  child. 

His  father  helped  him  to  alight,  and  supported 
him  up  the  veranda  steps. 

"Don't  be  alarmed,  mother,  I'm  not  badly 
hurt,"  he  said,  but  staggered  as  he  spoke,  and 
would  have  fallen  but  for  his  father's  sustaining 
arm,  and  by  the  light  from  the  open  door,  she  saw 
his  eyes  close  and  a  deadly  pallor  overspread  his 
face. 

"He's  fainting!  "  she  exclaimed,  springing  to 
his  other  side.      "  Oh,  my  boy,  this  is  no  trifle  !  " 

Servants  were  already  crowding  about  them,  and 
Eddie  was  quickly  borne  to  his  room,  laid  upon  the 
bed,  and  restoratives  administered. 

"  Fire  !  "  his  mother  said  with  a  start  and  shud- 
der, pointing  to  his  singed  locks,  "oh,  where  has 
the  child  been  ?  ' ' 

Her  husband  told  her  in  a  few  words. 

"  And  he  has  saved  a  life  !  "  she  cried  with  tears 
of  mingled  joy  and  grief,  proud  of  her  brave  son, 
though  her  tender  mother  heart  ached  for  his  suf- 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  301 

fering.  "Thank  God  for  that,  if — if  he  has  not 
sacrificed  his  own." 

The  door  opened  and  Arthur  Conly  came  in. 

Consciousness  was  returning  to  the  lad,  and 
looking  up  at  his  cousin  as  he  bent  over  him, 
"Tell  mother,"  he  murmured,  "that  I'm  not 
much  hurt." 

"I  have  to  find  that  out,  first,"  said  Arthur. 
"Do  you  feel  any  burns,  bruises?  whereabouts  are 
you  injured,  do  you  think?  " 

"Something — a  falling  beam,  I  suppose,  grazed 
my  head  and  struck  me  on  the  shoulder ;  I  think, 
too,  that  my  hands  and  face  are  scorched." 

"  Yes,  your  face  is ;  and  your  hands — scorched? 
why  they  are  badly  burned !  And  your  collar 
bone's  broken.  That's  all,  I  believe ;  enough  to 
satisfy  you,  I  hope?  " 

"  Quite,"  Eddie  returned  with  a  faint  smile. 
"Don't  cry,  mother  dear,  you  see  it's  nothing  but 
what  can  be  made  right  in  a  few  days  or  weeks." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  kissing  him  and  smiling 
through  her  tears;  "and  oh,  let  us  thank  God 
that  it  is  no  worse  !  " 

Eddie's  adventure  created  quite  a  stir  in  the 
family  and  among  outside  relatives  and  friends,  he 
was  dubbed  the  hero  of  the  hour,  and  attentions 
were  lavished  upon  him  without  stint. 

He  bore  his  honors  meekly.  "Mother,"  he 
safd  privately  to  her,  "  I  don't  deserve  all  these 
encomiums  and  they  make  me  ashamed;   for  I  am 


302  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

not  really  brave.  In  fact  I'm  afraid  I'm  an  arrant 
coward ;  for  do  you  know  I  was  afraid  to  rush  in 
among  those  flames;  but  I  could  not  bear  the 
thought  of  leaving  that  poor  baby  to  burn  up,  and 
you  had  taught  me  that  it  was  right  and  noble  to 
risk  my  own  life  to  save  another's." 

"That  was  not  cowardice,  my  dear  boy,"  she 
said,  her  eyes  shining,  "but  the  truest  courage.  I 
think  you  deserve  far  more  credit  for  bravery,  than 
you  would  if  you  had  rushed  in  impulsively  with- 
out a  thought  of  the  real  danger  you  were  encomv 
tering." 

"Praise  is  very  sweet  from  the  lips  of  those  I 
love;  especially  my  mother's,"  he  responded,  with 
a  glad  smile.  "  And  what  a  nurse  you  are,  mother 
mine  !  it  pays  to  be  ill  when  one  can  be  so  tended." 

"That  is  when  one  is  not  very  seriously  ill,  I 
suppose?"  she  said  playfully,  stroking  his  hair. 
' '  By  the  way,  it  will  take  longer  to  restore  these 
damaged  locks,  than  to  repair  any  of  the  other  in- 
juries caused  by  your  escapade." 

"Never  mind,"  he  said,  "they'll  grow  again  in 
time.     What  has  become  of  the  Smiths?" 

"Your  father  has  found  temporary  shelter  for 
them  at  the  quarter,  and  is  rebuilding  their  hut." 

"I  knew  he  would;  it  is  just  like  him — always 
so  kind,  so  generous." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-NINTH. 

"  Oh,  gentle  Romeo, 
If  thou  dost  love,  pronounce  it  faithfully. 
Or  if  thou  think'st  I'm  too  quickly  won, 
I'll  frown  and  be  perverse,  and  say  thee  nay, 
So  thou  wilt  woo;  but  else  not  for  the  world." 

— Shakespeare. 

One  lovely  morning  in  the  ensuing  spring,  the 
younger  Elsie  wandered  out  alone  into  the  grounds, 
and  sauntering  aimlessly  along  with  a  book  in  her 
hand,  at  length  found  herself  standing  on  the  shore 
of  the  lakelet. 

It  was  a  lovely  spot,  for  the  limpid  waters  re- 
flected grassy  banks  sprinkled  here  and  there  with 
the  wild  violet,  and  shaded  by  beautiful  trees. 

A  gentle  breeze  just  ruffled  the  glassy  surface  of 
the  pond,  and  rustic  seats  invited  to  rest.  It 
seemed  just  the  place  and  time  for  a  reverie,  and 
Elsie,  with  scarce  a  glance  about  her,  sat  clown  to 
that  enjoyment.  It  was  only  of  late  that  she  had 
formed  the  habit,  but  it  was  growing  upon  her. 

She  sat  for  some  time  buried  in  thought,  her 
cheek  upon  her  hand,  her  eyes  upon  the  ground, 
and  smiles  and  blushes  chasing  each  other  over  the 
fair  sweet  face. 

The  dip  of  an  oar,  followed  instantly  by  a  dis- 
3°3 


304  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

cordant  laugh  and  a  shrill  voice  asking,  "  What  are 
you  sittin'  there  for  so  still  and  quiet  ?  Wouldn't 
you  like  to  get  in  here  with  me!"  caused  her  to 
start  and  spring  to  her  feet  with  a  cry  of  dismay. 

About  an  hour  before  a  little,  oddly  dressed 
woman,  with  grey  hair  hanging  over  her  shoulders, 
a  large  doll  in  one  arm  and  a  sun  umbrella  in  the 
other  hand,  might  have  been  seen  stealing  along 
the  road  that  led  from  Roselands  to  Ion,  keeping 
close  to  the  hedge  that  separated  it  from  the  fields, 
and  now  and  then  glancing  over  her  shoulder  as  if 
fearing  or  expecting  pursuit. 

She  kept  up  a  constant  gabble,  now  talking  to 
herself,  now  to  the  doll,  hugging  and  kissing  it 
with  a  great  show  of  affection. 

"Got  away  safe  this  time,  didn't  we,  Grizzy  ? 
And  we're  not  going  back  in  a  hurry,  are  we,  dear? 
We've  had  enough  of  being  penned  up  in  that  old 
house  this  ever  so  long  •  and  now  we'll  have  a  day 
in  the  woods,  a  picnic  all  to  ourselves.  Hark  ! 
what  was  that?  did  I  hear  wheels?"  pausing  a 
moment  to  listen.  "No,  they  haven't  found  us 
out  yet,  Grizzy,  so  we'll  walk  on." 

Reaching  the  gate  leading  into  the  avenue  at 
Ion,  she  stood  a  moment  peering  in  between  the 
bars. 

"  Seems  to  me  I've  been  here  before ;  must  have 
been  a  good  while  ago.  Guess  I  won't  go  up  to 
the  house;  they  might  catch  me  and  send  me 
back.     But  let  us  go  in,  Griselda,  and  look  about 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  305 

Yonder's  a  garden  full  of  flowers.  We'll  pick  what 
we  want  and  nobody'll  know  it." 

Putting  down  her  umbrella  and  pushing  the  gate 
open  just  far  enough  to  enable  her  to  slip  through, 
she  stole  cautiously  in,  crossed  the  avenue  and  the 
lawn,  and  entered  the  garden  unobserved. 

She  wandered  here  and  there  about  it,  plucking 
remorselessly  whatever  seized  her  fancy,  till  she 
had  an  immense  bouquet  of  the  choicest  blossoms. 

At  length  leaving  the  garden  she  made  a  circuit 
through  the  shrubbery,  and  finally  came  out  upon 
the  shore  of  the  little  lake. 

"  Oh,  this  is  nice  !  "  she  said.  "  Did  I  ever  see 
this  before?  It's  cool  and  shady  here;  we'll  sit 
down  and  rest  ourselves  under  one  of  these  trees, 
Grizzy."  Then  catching  sight  of  a  pretty  row- 
boat,  moored  to  the  shore,  "No,  we'll  jump  into 
this  boat  and  take  a  ride  !  "  and  springing  nimbly 
in,  she  laid  the  doll  down  on  one  of  the  seats,  the 
bouquet  beside  it,  saying,  "I'm  tired  carrying  you, 
Griselda,  so  you  just  lie  there  and  rest,"  then 
quickly  loosing  the  little  craft  from  its  moorings, 
and  taking  up  the  oars,  pushed  off  into  the  deep 
water. 

She  laid  down  the  oars  presently,  and  amused 
herself  with  the  flowers,  picking  them  to  pieces  and 
scattering  the  petals  in  the  water,  leaning  over  the 
side  of  the  boat,  talking  to  the  fishes,  and  bidding 
them  eat  what  she  gave  them,  "  for  it  was  good, 
much  better  and  daintier  than  bread  crumbs." 


306  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

The  breeze  came  from  the  direction  to  take  her 
farther  from  the  shore,  and  soon  wafted  her  out  to 
the  middle  of  the  lake,  but  she  went  on  with  her 
new  diversion,  taking  no  note  of  her  whereabouts. 

It  was  just  about  this  time  that  Elsie  reached  the 
spot  and  sat  down  to  her  day  dreams. 

Enna,  for  she  it  was  who  occupied  the  boat,  did 
not  see  her  niece  at  first,  but  after  a  little,  growing 
weary  of  her  sport  with  the  flowers,  she  threw  them 
from  her,  took  up  an  oar  again,  and  glancing  to- 
ward the  land,  as  she  dipped  it  in  the  water,  her 
eye  fell  upon  the  graceful  white-robed  figure  seated 
there  underneath  the  trees,  and  she  instantly  called 
out  to  her  as  we  have  related. 

Elsie  was  much  alarmed ;  concerned  for  the 
safety  of  the  poor  lunatic.  There  was  no  knowing 
what  mad  freak  might  seize  her  at  any  moment ; 
no  one  was  within  call,  and  that  being  the  only 
boat  there,  there  was  no  way  of  reaching  her  until 
she  should  return  to  the  shore  of  her  own  accord  ; 
if  indeed,  she  was  capable  of  managing  the  boat  so 
as  to  reach  the  land  if  she  desired  to  do  so. 

Elsie  did  not  lose  her  presence  of  mind,  and  she 
thought  very  rapidly.  The  breeze  was  wafting  the 
boat  farther  from  her,  but  nearer  to  the  opposite 
shore;  if  let  alone  it  would  arrive  there  in  the 
course  of  time,  and  Enna  she  perceived  did  not 
know  how  to  propel  it  with  the  oars. 

"Will  you  come?"  she  was  asking  again,  "will 
you  take  a  ride  in  this  pretty  boat  with  me?  " 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  307 

"I'll  run  round  to  the  other  side,"  Elsie 
called  in  reply.  "I  wouldn't  bother  with  those 
great  heavy  oars,  if  I  were  you ;  just  let  them 
lie  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  while  you  sit  still 
and  rest,  and  the  wind  will  carry  it  to  the 
land." 

"  All  right  !  "  Enna  answered,  laying  them 
down.      "  Now  you  hurry  up." 

"  I  will,"  Elsie  said,  starting  upon  a  run  for  the 
spot  where  she  thought  that  the  boat  would  be 
most  likely  to  reach  the  shore. 

She  reached  it  first,  and  the  boat  being  still  sev- 
eral yards  away  floating  upon  very  deep  water,  she 
watched  it  a  moment  anxiously. 

Enna  was  sitting  still  in  the  bottom,  hugging  the 
doll  to  her  bosom  and  singing  a  lullaby  to  it ;  but 
suddenly  as  Elsie  stood  waiting  and  watching  in 
trembling  suspense,  she  sprang  up,  tossed  the  doll 
from  her,  leaped  over  the  side  of  the  boat,  and  dis- 
appeared beneath  the  water. 

Elsie  tore  off  her  sash,  tied  a  pebble  to  one  end, 
and  as  Enna  rose  to  the  surface,  spluttering  and 
struggling,  threw  it  to  her  crying,  "  Catch  hold 
and  I  will  try  to  pull  you  out." 

"Oh,  don't!  you  will  but  sacrifice  your  own 
life  !  "  cried  a  manly  voice,  in  tones  of  almost 
agonized  entreaty,  and  Lester  Leland  came  dash- 
ing down  the  bank. 

It  was  too  late  ;  Enna  seized  the  ribbon  with  a 
jerk  that  threw  Elsie  also  into  the  water,  and  they 


3©8  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

were  struggling  there  together,  both  in  imminent 
danger  of  drowning. 

It  was  but  an  instant  before  Lester  was  there 
also ;  death  with  Elsie  would  be  far  preferable  to 
life  without  her,  and  he  would  save  or  perish  with 
her. 

It  was  near  being  the  last ;  would  have  been  had 
not  Bruno  come  to  his  aid,  but  with  the  good  help 
of  the  faithful  dog,  he  at  length  succeeded  in  res- 
cuing both  ladies,  dragging  them  up  the  bank  and 
laying  them  on  the  grass,  both  in  a  state  of  insensi- 
bility. 

"  Go  to  the  house,  Bruno,  go  and  bring  help," 
he  said  pantingly,  for  he  was  well-nigh  overcome 
by  his  exertions,  and  the  dog  bounded  away  in  the 
direction  of  the  house. 

"Lord,  grant  it  may  come  speedily,"  ejaculated 
the  young  man,  kneeling  beside  the  apparently  life- 
less form  of  her  he  loved  so  well.  "  Oh,  my  dar- 
ling, have  those  sweet  eyes  closed  forever?"  he 
cried  in  anguish,  wiping  the  water  from  her  face, 
and  chafing  her  cold  hands  in  his.  "Elsie  my 
love,  my  life,  my  all !  oh  !  I  would  have  died  to 
save  you  !  " 

Enna  had  been  missed  almost  immediately,  and 
Calhoun,  Arthur  and  several  servants  at  once  set 
out  in  different  directions  in  search  of  her. 

Arthur  and  Pomp  got  upon  the  right  scent,  fol- 
lowed her  to  Ion,  and  joined  by  Mr.  Travilla,  soon 
traced  her  through  the  garden  and  shrubbery  down 


ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX.  309 

to  the  lake,  coming  upon  the  scene  of  the  catas- 
trophe, or  rather  of  the  rescue,  but  a  moment  after 
Bruno  left. 

"Why,  what  is  this?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Travilla 
in  alarm,  "is  it  Elsie?  can  she  have  been  in  the 
water?     Oh,  my  child,  my  darling  !  " 

Instantly  he  was  down  upon  the  grass  by  her 
side,  assisting  Lester's  efforts  to  restore  her  to  con- 
sciousness. 

For  a  moment  she  engrossed  the  attention  of  all, 
to  the  utter  exclusion  from  their  thoughts  of  poor 
Enna,  for  whom  none  of  them  entertained  any 
great  amount  of  affection. 

"  She  lives  !  her  heart  beats  !  she  will  soon  re- 
cover !  "  Arthur  said  presently,  "  see,  a  faint  color 
is  coming  into  her  cheek.  Run,  Pomp,  bring 
blankets  and  more  help ;  they  must  be  carried  at 
once  to  the  house." 

He  turned  to  his  aunt,  leaving  Mr.  Travilla  and 
Lester  to  attend  to  Elsie. 

Enna  seemed  gone ;  he  could  not  be  sure  that 
life  was  not  extinct.  Perhaps  it  were  better  so,  but 
he  would  not  give  up  till  every  possible  effort  had 
been  made  to  restore  her. 

Both  ladies  were  speedily  conveyed  to  the  house, 
Elsie,  already  conscious,  committed  to  the  care  of 
her  mother  and  Aunt  Chloe,  while  Arthur,  Dr. 
Barton  and  others,  used  every  exertion  for  Enna's 
resuscitation.  They  were  at  length  successful  in  fan- 
ning to  a  flame  the  feeble  spark  of  life  that  yet  re- 


310  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

mained,  but  fever  supervened,  and  for  weeks  after- 
ward she  was  very  ill. 

Elsie  kept  her  bed  for  a  day,  then  took  her  place 
in  the  family  again,  looking  quite  herself  except  a 
slight  paleness.  No  ;  a  close  observer  might  have 
detected  another  change ;  a  sweet  glad  light  in  the 
beautiful  brown  eyes  that  was  not  there  before ;  full 
of  peaceful  content  and  quiet  happiness  as  her 
young  life  had  been. 

Lester's  words  of  passionate  love  had  reached 
the  ear  that  seemed  closed  to  all  earthly  sounds ; 
they  were  heard  as  in  a  dream,  but  afterward  re- 
called with  a  full  apprehension  of  their  reality  and 
of  all  they  meant  to  her  and  to  him. 

Months  ago  she  had  read  the  same  sweet  story 
in  his  eyes,  but  how  sweeter  far  it  was  to  have  heard 
it  from  his  lips. 

She  had  sometimes  wondered  that  he  held  his 
peace  so  long,  and  again  had  doubted  the  language 
of  his  looks,  but  now  those  doubts  were  set  at  rest, 
and  their  next  interview  was  anticipated  with  a 
strange  flutter  of  the  heart,  a  longing  for,  yet 
half  shrinking  from  the  words  he  might  have  to 
speak. 

But  the  day  passed  and  he  did  not  come  ;  another 
and  another,  and  no  word  from  him.  How  strange  ! 
he  was  still  her  preceptor  in  her  art  studies ;  did 
he  not  know  that  she  was  well  enough  to  resume 
them  ?     If  not,  was  it  not  his  place  to  inquire  ? 

Perhaps   he    was  ill.     Oh,    had    he    risked   his 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  311 

health,  perhaps  his  life  in  saving  hers?  She  did 
not  ask ;  her  lips  refused  to  speak  his  name,  and 
would  nobody  tell  her  ? 

At  last  she  overheard  her  father  saying  to  Eddie, 
"What  has  become  of  Lester  Leland?  It  strikes 
me  as  a  little  ungallant  that  he  has  not  been  in  to 
inquire  after  the  health  of  your  aunt  and  sister." 

"He  has  gone  away,"  Eddie  answered,  "he 
left  the  morning  after  the  accident." 

"Gone  away,"  echoed  Elsie's  sinking  heart. 
"Gone  away,  and  so  suddenly!  what  could  it 
mean?"  She  stole  away  to  her  own  room  to  in- 
lulge,  for  a  brief  space,  in  the  luxury  of  tears, 
then,  with  a  woman's  instinctive  pride,  carefully 
removed  their  traces,  and  rejoined  the  family  with 
a  face  all  wreathed  in  smiles. 


CHAPTER  THIRTIETH. 

"  Love  is  not  to  be  reasoned  down  or  lost, 
In  high  ambition,  or  a  thirst  for  greatness ; 
'Tis  second  life,  it  grows  into  the  soul, 
Warms  ev'ry  vein,  and  beats  in  ev'ry  pulse ; 
I  feel  it  here;  my  resolution  melts." 

— Addison. 

Enna  lay  at  the  point  of  death  for  weeks.  Mrs. 
Travilla  was  her  devoted  nurse,  scarcely  leaving 
her  day  or  night,  and  only  snatching  a  few  hours 
of  rest  occasionally,  on  a  couch  in  an  adjoining 
room  whence  she  could  be  summoned  at  a  mo- 
ment's notice. 

Mr.  Travilla  at  length  remonstrated,  "  My  dar- 
ling, this  is  too  much,  you  are  risking  your  own 
life  and  health,  which  are  far  more  valuable  than 
hers." 

"O  Edward,"  she  answered,  the  tears  shining 
in  her  eyes,  "I  must  save  her  if  I  can.  I  am 
praying,  praying  that  reason  may  come  back  and 
her  life  be  spared  till  she  has  learned  to  know  him, 
whom  to  know  aright  is  life  eternal." 

"  My  precious,  unselfish  little  wife!"  he  said, 
embracing  her  with  emotion,  "  I  believe  your  peti- 
tion will  be  granted  ;  that  the  Master  will  give  you 
this  soul  for  your  hire,  saying  to  you  as  to  one  of 
old,  '  According  to  your  faith  be  it  unto  you.' 
312 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  313 

"  But,  dearest,"  he  added,  "  you  must  allow  oth- 
ers to  share  your  labor,  others  upon  whom  she  cer- 
tainly has  a  nearer  claim.     Where  is  Mrs.  Conly  ?  ' ' 

"Aunt  Louise  says  she  has  no  talent  for  nurs- 
ing," Elsie  answered  with  a  half  smile,  "and  that 
Prilla,  mammy  and  Dinah  are  quite  capable  and  I 
am  very  foolish  to  take  the  work  off  their  hands." 

"  And  I  am  partly  of  her  opinion,"  he  responded 
playfully;  then  more  seriously,  "will  you  not,  for 
my  sake  and  for  your  children's,  spare  yourself  a 
little." 

"  And  for  your  father's,"  added  Mr.  Dinsmore, 
whose  quiet  step  as  he  entered  the  room,  they  had 
not  heard. 

Elsie  turned  to  him  with  both  hands  extended,  a 
smile  on  her  lips,  a  tear  in  her  eye,  "  My  dear 
father,  how  are  you  ?  ' ' 

"Quite  well,  daughter,"  he  said,  taking  the 
hands  and  kissing  the  rich  red  lips,  as  beautiful  and 
ao  sweet  now,  as  in  her  childhood  or  youth,  "but 
troubled  and  anxious  about  you.  Are  you  deter- 
mined to  be  quite  obstinate  in  this  thing  ?  " 

"No,"  she  said,  "I  hope  not;  but  what  is  it 
that  you  and  my  husband  would  have  me  do?  " 

'•  Take  your  regular  rest  at  night,"  answered  the 
one,  the  other  adding,  "  And  go  out  for  a  little  air 
and  exercise  every  day." 

Arthur,  coming  in  at  that  moment,  from  his 
morning  visit  to  his  patient,  who  lay  in  the  next 
room,  joined  his  entreaties  to  theirs,  and  upon  his 


314  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

assurance  that  Enna  was  improving,  Elsie  con- 
sented to  do  as  they  desired. 

Still  the  greater  part  of  her  time  was  spent  at 
Enna's  bedside,  and  her  family  saw  but  little  of 
her. 

This  was  a  trial  to  them  all ;  but  especially  to 
the  eldest,  who  was  longing  for  "mamma's"  dear 
society;  she  fully  appreciated  Molly's  and  Eddie's 
companionship,  dearly  loved  that  of  her  father, 
and  esteemed  Vi's  as  very  sweet,  but  no  one  could 
fill  her  mother's  place. 

Probably  not  even  to  her  would  she  have  unbur- 
dened her  heart,  she  could  scarce  bear  to  look  into 
it  herself,  but  the  dear  mother's  very  presence, 
though  she  might  only  sit  in  silence  by  her  side, 
would  be  as  balm  to  her  troubled  spirit. 

She  forced  herself  to  be  cheerful  when  with  the 
others,  and  to  take  an  interest  in  what  interested 
them,  but  when  left  alone  would  drop  her  book  or 
work  and  fall  into  a  reverie,  or  wander  out  into  the 
grounds,  choosing  the  most  quiet  and  secluded 
parts;  often  the  shady  banks  of  the  lakelet,  where 
she  and  Lester  had  passed  many  an  hour  together 
in  days  gone  by. 

She  had  gone  there  one  morning,  leaving  the 
others  at  home  busied  with  their  lessons.  Seated 
on  a  rustic  bench,  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap,  her 
eyes  on  the  ground  and  a  book  lying  unheeded  in 
the  grass  at  her  feet,  she  was  startled  by  a  sound  as 
of  some  heavy  body  falling   from    a  height  and 


ELS/E'S  CHILD  REX.  315 

crashing  through  the  branches  of  a  thick  clump  of 
trees  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake. 

She  sprang  up  and  stood  looking  and  listening 
with  a  palpitating  heart.  She  could  see  that  a 
large  branch  had  broken  from  a  tall  tree,  and  lay 
upon  the  ground  and — yes,  something  else  lay  be- 
side or  on  it,  half  concealed  from  her  view  by  the 
green  leaves  and  twigs;  and — did  she  hear  a 
groan  ? 

Perhaps  it  was  only  fancv,  but  it  might  be  that 
some  one  was  lying  there  in  pain  and  needing  as- 
sistance. 

Instantly  she  flew  toward  the  spot,  her  heart 
beating  wildly  ;  she  drew  near,  started  back  and 
caught  at  a  young  sapling  for  support ;  yes,  there 
lay  a  motionless  form  among  the  fallen  branches, 
that  of  a  man,  a  gentleman,  as  she  discerned  by 
what  she  could  see  of  his  clothing ;  her  heart  told 
her  the  rest. 

Another  moment  and  she  was  kneeling  at  his 
side,  gazing  with  unutterable  anguish  into  the  still 
white  face. 

"  He  is  dead,  the  fall  has  killed  him."  She  had 
no  hope  of  anything  else  at  the  moment ;  there 
seemed  no  possibility  of  life  in  that  rigid  form  and 
death-like  face ;  and  she  made  no  effort  to  give  as- 
sistance or  to  call  for  it.  She  was  like  one  turned 
to  stone  by  the  sudden  crushing  blow.  She  loved 
and  she  had  lost — that  was  all  she  knew. 

But  at  length   this  stony  grief  gave  place  to  a 


316  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

sharper  anguish,  a  low  cry  burst  from  her  lips,  and 
hot  scalding  tears  fell  upon  his  face. 

They  brought  him  back  to  consciousness,  and  he 
heard  her  bitter  sighs  and  moans  j  he  knew  she 
thought  him  dead  and  mourned  as  for  one  who  was 
very  dear. 

He  was  in  terrible  pain,  for  he  had  fallen  with 
his  leg  bent  under  him  and  it  was  badly  broken  j 
but  a  thrill  of  joy  shot  through  his  whole  frame. 
For  a  moment  more  he  was  able  to  control  himself 
and  remain  perfectly  still,  then  his  eyelids  quivered, 
and  a  groan  burst  from  him. 

At  the  sound  Elsie  started  to  her  feet,  then  bend- 
ing over  him,  "You're  hurt,  Lester,"  she  said, 
unconsciously  addressing  him  for  the  first  time  by 
his  Christian  name ;    "  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  Have  me  carried  to  Fairview,"  he  said  faintly; 
"  my  leg  is  broken  and  I  cannot  rise  or  help  my- 
self." 

"Oh,  what  can  I  do,"  she  cried,  "how  can  I 
leave  you  alone  in  such  pain  ?  Ah  !  "  as  steps 
were  heard  approaching,  "  here  is  grandpa  coming 
up  in  search  of  me." 

She  ran  to  meet  him  and  told  him  what  had 
happened. 

He  seemed  much  concerned.  "Solon  is  here 
with  the  carriage,"  he  said.  "  I  was  going  to  ask 
your  company  for  a  drive,  but  we  will  have  him 
take  Leland  to  Fairview  first.  Strange  what  could 
have  taken  him  into  that  tree  !  " 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  317 

That  broken  limb  kept  Lester  Leland  on  his  back 
for  six  long  weeks. 

His  aunt  nursed  him  with  the  utmost  kindness, 
but  could  not  refrain  from  teasing  him  about  his 
accident,  asking  what  took  him  into  the  tree,  and 
how  he  came  to  fall,  till  at  last,  in  sheer  desper- 
ation, he  told  her  the  whole  story  of  his  love,  his 
hopelessness  on  account  of  his  poverty,  his  deter- 
mination not  to  go  back  to  Ion  to  be  thanked  by 
Elsie  and  her  parents  for  saving  her  life,  his  in- 
ability to  go  or  stay  far  away  from  her ;  and 
finally  owned  that  he  had  climbed  the  tree  simply 
that  he  might  be  able  to  watch  her,  himself  un- 
seen. 

' '  Well,  I  must  say  you  are  a  sensible  young 
man!"  laughed  Mrs.  Leland;  "but  it  was  very 
unromantic  to  be  so  heavy  as  to  break  the  limb  and 
fall." 

"  True  enough  !  "  he  said,  half-laughing,  half- 
sighing,  while  a  deep  flush  suffused  his  face. 

"  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  next  ?  " 

"  Go  off  to — Italy,  I  suppose." 

"What  for?" 

"  To  try  to  make  fame  and  money  to  lay  at  her 
feet." 

"  That  is  all  very  well,  but  I  think " 

"Well?" 

"It  just  struck  me  that  I  was  about  to  give 
unasked  advice,  which  is  seldom  relished  by  the 
recipient." 


3i 8  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

"  Please  go  on.  I  should  like  to  have  it  whether 
I  make  use  of  it  or  not." 

"Well,  I  think  the  honest,  straightforward,  and 
therefore  best  course,  would  be  to  seek  an  interview 
with  the  parents  of  the  young  lady,  tell  them  frankly 
your  feelings  toward  her,  your  hopes  and  purposes, 
and  leave  it  with  them  to  say  whether  you  shall  go 
without  speaking  to  her." 

"They  will  take  me  for  a  fortune-hunter,  I 
fear,"  he  said,  the  color  mounting  to  his  very 
hair. 

"  I  think  not;  but  at  all  events,  I  should  risk  it. 
I  do  not  pretend  to  know  Elsie's  feelings,  but  if 
she  cares  for  you  at  all,  it  would  be  treating  her 
very  badly  indeed,  to  go  away  without  letting  her 
know  yours ;   unless  her  parents  forbid  it. 

"  There,  I've  said  my  say,  and  will  not  mention 
the  subject  again  till  you  do,  but  leave  you  to  con- 
sider my  advice  at  your  leisure." 

Lester  did  so  during  the  next  week,  which  was 
the  last  of  the  six  of  enforced  quietude,  and  the 
more  he  pondered  it,  the  more  convinced  was  he  of 
the  soundness  of  his  aunt's  advice,  and  at  length 
he  fully  resolved  to  follow  it. 

Mr.  Travilla  had  called  frequently  at  Fairview, 
since  his  accident,  always  inquiring  for  him,  some- 
times coming  up  to  his  room,  at  others  merely  leav- 
ing kind  messages  from  himself,  wife  and  family,  or 
some  dainty  to  tempt  the  appetite  of  the  invalid. 
Eddie  had  been  there,  too,  on  similar  errands;  but 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  319 

there   was    never   a   word   from  her  whose  lovely 
image  was  ever  present  to  his  imagination. 


Enna  was  recovering ;  was  now  able  to  sit  up 
and  to  walk  about  the  room.  There  was  partial 
restoration  of  reason  also.  Elsie's  prayer  had  been 
granted,  and  though  still  feeble  in  intellect,  Enna 
had  sense  enough  to  comprehend  the  plan  of 
salvation,  and  seemed  to  have  entered  into  the 
kingdom  as  a  little  child.  She  was  gentle,  patient 
and  submissive;  very  different,  indeed,  from  the 
Enna  of  old.  Elsie  rejoiced  over  her  with  joy  akin 
to  that  of  the  angels  "over  one  sinner  that 
repenteth." 


Elsie's  children  were  full  of  content  and  hap- 
piness in  having  mamma  again  at  leisure  to  bestow 
upon  them  her  wonted  care  and  attention ;  her 
husband  also,  in  that  he  was  no  longer  deprived  of 
the  large  share  of  her  sweet  society,  which  for 
weeks  past  had  been  bestowed  upon  Enna. 

"Let  us  have  a  quiet  walk  together,  little  wife," 
he  said  to  her  one  lovely  summer  evening,  as  she 
joined  him  in  the  veranda  on  coming  down  from 
seeing  her  little  ones  safe  in  their  nest;  "suppose 
we  call  on  the  Lelands.  Lester,  I  hear,  is  talking 
of  going  North  soon,  and  I  believe  contemplates  a 
trip  to  Europe." 


32o  ELSIE'S  CHILD  REX. 

"  And  I  have  never  seen  him  yet  to  thank  him 
for  saving  our  darling's  life;  and  Enna's  too. 
Yes  ;  let  us  go." 

Lester  and  his  aunt  were  alone  in  the  drawing- 
room  at  Fairview,  when  their  visitors  were  an- 
nounced. 

There  seemed  a  slight  air  of  embarrassment 
about  the  young  man  at  the  moment  of  their  en- 
trance ;  but  it  was  quickly  dispelled  by  the  kindly 
warmth  of  their  greeting. 

The  four  chatted  together  for  some  time  on  in- 
different topics;  then  Mrs.  Lester  found  some 
excuse  for  leaving  the  room,  and  Mrs.  Travilla 
seized  the  opportunity  to  pour  out  her  thanks  to 
Elsie's  rescuer  from  a  watery  grave. 

This  made  a  favorable  opening  for  Lester,  and 
modestly  disclaiming  any  right  to  credit  for  what 
he  had  done,  he  frankly  told  the  parents  all  that 
was  in  his  heart  toward  their  daughter,  why  he  had 
refrained  from  speaking  before,  and  his  purpose 
not  to  seek  to  win  her  until  he  could  bring  fame 
and  fortune  to  lay  at  her  feet. 

He  began  in  almost  painful  confusion,  but  some- 
thing in  the  faces  of  his  listeners  reassured  him ; 
for  they  expressed  neither  surprise  nor  displeasure, 
though  tears  were  trembling  in  the  soft  brown  eyes 
of  the  mother. 

Lester  had  concluded,  and  for  a  moment  there 
was  silence,  then  Mr.  Travilla  said — a  slight  huski- 
ness    in    his   voice,    "  Young   man,    I    like   your 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  321 

straightforward  dealing ;  but  do  you  know  the 
worth  of  the  prize  you  covet  ?  " 

"  I  know,  sir,  that  her  price  is  above  rubies,  and 
that  I  am  not  worthy  of  her." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Leland,  we  will  let  her  be  the  judge 
of  that,"  the  father  answered.  "  Shall  we  not,  little 
wife?  "  turning  to  Elsie  with  a  look  that  had  in  it 
all  the  admiring  homage  of  the  lover,  as  well  as  the 
tender  devotion  of  the  husband. 

"Yes,"  she  sighed,  seeming  already  to  feel  the 
pang  of  parting  with  her  child. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  I  may  speak  now  ?  "  Lester 
asked,  half-incredulous  of  his  happiness. 

"  Yes,"  Mr.  Travilla  said  ;  "  though  not  willing 
to  spare  our  child  yet,  we  would  not  have  you  part 
in  doubt  of  each  other's  feelings.  And,"  he  added 
with  a  kindly  smile,  "if  you  have  won  her  heart, 
the  want  of  wealth  is  not  much  against  you. 
'  Worth  makes  the  man.'  " 

They  walked  home  together — Elsie  and  her  hus- 
band— sauntering  along  arm  in  arm,  by  the  silvery 
moonlight,  like  a  pair  of  lovers. 

There  was  something  very  lover-like  in  the  gaze 
he  bent  upon  the  sweet,  fair  face  at  his  side,  almost 
sad  in  its  quietness. 

"  What  is  it,  little  wife?"  he  asked. 

"  Ah,  Edward,  how  can  we  spare  her — our  dar- 
ling, our   first-born  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  we  shall  not  be  called  upon  to  do  so; 
he  may  not  have  won  her  heart." 


322-  ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 

She  shook  her  head  with  a  faint  smile. 

"  She  has  tried  to  hide  it — dear  innocent  child  ! 
but  I  know  the  symptoms ;  I  have  not  forgotten." 
And  she  looked  up  into  his  face,  blushing  and 
happy  as  in  the  days  when  he  had  wooed  and  won 
his  bride. 

"  Yes,  dearest ;  what  a  little  while  ago  it  seems  ! 
Ah,  those  were  gladsome  days  to  us ;  were  they 
not?" 

"Gladsome?  Ah,  yes!  their  memory  is  sweet 
to  this  hour.  Yet  I  do  not  sigh  for  their  return  ;  I 
would  not  bring  them  back;  a  deeper,  calmer 
blessedness  is  mine.     My  dear  husband, 


"  '  I  bless  thee  for  the  noble  heart, 
The  tender  and  the  true, 
Where  mine  hath  found  the  happiest  rest 
That  e'er  fond  woman's  knew ; 
I  bless  thee,  faithful  friend  and  guide, 
For  my  own,  my  treasur'd  share, 
In  the  mournful  secrets  of  thy  soul, 
In  thy  sorrow  and  thy  care.'  " 

"Thank  you,  my  darling,"   he  said,  lifting  her 
hand  to  his  lips,  his  eyes  shining.      "  Yes ; 

«  We  have  lived  and  loved  together, 
Through  many  changing  years, 
We  have  shared  each  other's  sorrows, 
And  we've  wept  each  other's  tears. 


ELSIE'S  CHILDREN.  323 

»  Let  us  hope  the  future 

As  the  past  has  been,  may  be, 
^  I'll  share  with  thee  thy  sorrows, 

And  thou  my  joys  with  me." 


THE  END. 


